New Paths
by EleanorKate
Summary: Having been married barely a few weeks, Chummy's 'old' life infiltrates the peace of her new home and she and Peter are faced with memories neither are sure they wish to revisit.
1. Chapter 1

On returning from his late shift, he didn't expect to find the small table lamp blazing away or to find her dozing on the settee, the house still warm from a fire that had only recently been turned off. Kneeling beside her he picked up the book laid on her chest, giving a cursory glance at the title before putting it safely on the table, careful not to knock the half drunk cup of tea that had clearly been congealing for some hours.

She had got changed for bed, but for some reason had decided to wait up for him to return from shift. As much as he was touched she did, the last thing he wanted her to be doing was falling asleep on settees, especially as she worked all the hours God sent her already.

"Camilla?" he whispered, gently brushing her cheek with his fingertips. He noticed a bruise on her arm, clearly fresh. He would ask her where it came from later.

She murmured in response and as she emerged from sleep it was clear to him that her eyes were bloodshot. Without her spectacles he was just close enough so she could see his face clearly but an inch or two away from there though, he would have been a blur.

"Why have you been crying?" he asked immediately, seeing her eyes heavy, swollen from salty tears. She sat up properly, eyes burning, not saying a singular word as she breathed heavily, head thumping and cloudy with sleep.

From its place pushed down the side of the settee cushion she produced an airmail envelope. Chummy had no hesitation in showing him the letter. For so many years she had had to hide her distress or worry, push it so far down into the floor that she hoped it would never find its way up again, but now she had someone who would not judge her and it was so easy to simply tell him rather than torture herself in solitary confinement of her troubles.

"Her?" he asked, feeling hackles rise immediately, seeing the red, white and blue stripe adorning the edge of the envelope.

Chummy shook her head as she wrapped her dressing gown tighter around herself, sniffing back tears that were threatening again.

"My brother", she said eventually. Her voice was practically dead and to be frank, he had never seen her quite this upset in a while.

Peter took the letter and sat down next to her, opening it up and reading, perhaps expecting to hear of a death or some other family tragedy that had upset her so.

_ Sydney, Australia_

_ 28 October 1957_

_My dear Sister,_

_I thought it best I write and warn you that Mother is planning a sojourn to London to see you again._

_She has been in somewhat of a tizzy since your wedding and I fear she may once again be on the warpath. Veronica and I are travelling from Australia on 10__th__ November via Madeira and we are all due in London (Mother included!) three weeks to the day later before Veronica and I travel on to Scotland to see her parents for Christmas. I believe Mother is spending Christmas in Dublin with great aunt Thea. We cannot bring the children as they are too young for such a journey, but Veronica has insisted we bring you new photographs._

_I thought I should write to ensure you are best prepared for her. She came out to visit us immediately after the wedding in such a whirlwind that I cannot help but think has not been lessened_ _the weeks since. I for one, however, am looking forward to seeing my sister again and to meet her husband and I know Veronica is too._

_The girls have a surprise for you too that we will bring with us._

_With all our best love to you, Bob, Veronica and your nieces Rosemary, Genevieve and Alice (who insist that I tell you that they are growing bigger by the very instant!)"_

"There is nothing she can say or do that can affect us now" he said, firmess in his voice, folding the letter away back into its envelope.

"I wish I could believe that. Bobs never writes to me – it's _always_ Veronica - so it must be terrible for him to think he has to do that". He could see that she was starting to panic, tormenting the sewn sleeve of her housecoat as she picked at the blue stitching.

"No matter how much I try, no matter what I try and do, it's never good enough for her". It was a plea that had been on her lips for more years than she could care to remember.

"Stop trying then" he replied matter of factly, sliding an arm around her smoothing his hand over her back in a most comforting manner.

"You are you. If she objects to that, well? What can she do that she hasn't already done? She objected to us getting married, but we got married. When we are blessed with our family, she cannot stop them. Camilla, you are my wife now so come Hell or high water, she will have to go through me first to get to you".

Chummy could not help the rueful smile as she took his hand.

"Lucifer himself could be standing in front of her and she would have him cowering. What you saw", she continued "was only the smallest of her capabilities".

"Well", he paused, "think how you felt when you stood up to her when you told her you were getting married on your terms".

Chummy smiled at the memory of that telephone conversation, hearing the deathly silence on the end of the telephone, thinking back being quite shocked at her own audacity telling her mother something so intimate.

"Why are you smiling like that?" he asked, confused and intrigued in the same breath at the miniscule change he saw in her eyes.

"I told her…." Chummy stopped, feeling her skin burn in embarrassment, not daring to look him in the eye even though he was now her husband and nothing on earth separated them any more. Telling him that she had told her mother that he had taken her virginity long before he put a ring on her finger was actually quite chastening and she was suddenly shy of him.

"Told her?" he repeated to encourage her, raising his eyebrows. Peter saw her take a breath and still not looking him in the eye she replied feeling her cheeks turn pinker by the second.

"She was insistent I wore white for the wedding. I told her I wasn't entitled to".

"You did what?" he replied, half choking in his attempt not to laugh in shock.

"Told her exactly that" she replied, finally turning to him. "Told her that I had given myself to you without a wedding ring".

"No wonder she was looking through me at the ceremony!" he responded, trying to control laughter that was bubbling away in his stomach as it could only result in him being told off although he was secretly pleased at his wife's declaration. "She clearly did not want to be in the company of someone who defiled her only daughter then".

"You didn't 'defile' me Peter. I saved myself for my husband; it just so happened that we weren't married quite yet" she said, taking his hand that had been laying on his knee.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw his expression change.

"Don't smile Peter!"

Her admonishment only caused him to break out into an even bigger grin.

"It is funny Camilla. She can barely stand me anyway but to even have the gall to hold your hand let alone", he paused, trying to find a suitable phrase. "_Doing_ _other things_...Well that must take the biscuit".

"Peter, stop it". She was trying desperately to tick him off but she was finding that odd thing again. Whenever he smiled, she responded in the most involuntary kind and could not stop herself.

"I couldn't help falling in love with you and I know you should never have given me time of day".

"Peter!"

"Its true, Camilla. You did though and I am grateful for it" he replied, leaning over to give her a kiss on her cheek. The closed mouth smile she gave disappeared quickly.

"Where did that bruise come from?" he asked, gently touching the skin in the hope that it did not hurt as much as it looked.

"When Bob's letter arrived this morning, I wasn't concentrating and I caught myself on the living room door handle when I walked into it", she replied, remembering picking the letter from the mat, seeing handwriting that she did not recognise so infrequent were his letters and then the stamp 'Sydney'. She had felt that cold anxiety wash from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and deciding she would put the missive to one side until that evening, she had crashed into the door handle as her feet had taken her into the living room. She had noticed these past few weeks that when she was under this roof her accident prone nature had not followed her until that morning. Her mother was yet to see the houses Poplar offered to its officers and their wives and although it did them more than well, Chummy knew it would only meet with disapproval and the last thing she wanted or desired was have her impose on her and Peter's home.

"Come on", he continued giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "It's nearly midnight. I need to sleep. You need to sleep. We will deal with Her Majesty when the time comes".

"Peter!" she scolded, standing up with him as they walked towards the door.

Her last thought that night as she closed her eyes was that perhaps a visit from the Queen would be far less taxing.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mrs Noakes!" came a sing-song voice from behind her down the corridor. Trixie had taken to calling her by her full married name and nine times out of ten it somehow just managed to sound filthy. Thankfully as the evening was closing in around them, this time it was simply a greeting to attract her attention. Chummy stopped her journey to the kitchen.

"Sister Julienne asked me to give you this", Trixie said, handing her a small white tube. "For that monstrosity on your arm".

Chummy turned the tube over in her hand seeing the word 'Arnica' emblazoned in blue as she smiled a 'thank you'.

"Walked into a door!" she explained as they parted in separate directions, Chummy to her original destination and Trixie to the garden. "Need to pay more attention to where one's going these days!" Chummy continued looking back, not realising that anyone had seen the bruise that had been there for two days becoming increasingly darker and more insipid looking as the hours passed.

As she sat in the kitchen she gently touched the cream to the blackening mark, feeling the blood hard and clotted under her skin and pondered her lot. It had been a long while since she had bruised herself quite like that and when she had before, it had always been precipitated by that deathly anxiety of events to come as her mind spun and her limbs refused to co-operate with her brain. Thoughtfully and carefully she swirled the cream into her skin, failing to see a figure stand before her.

"I see Nurse Franklin found you" came a voice in the relative silence that had built up in the kitchen. As she looked up she found Sister Julienne standing on the other side of the table, hands resting gently on the back of a chair.

"Yes" Chummy replied. "Thank you Sister. For this" she continued gesturing at the tube.

"It was quite alright" the Sister responded about to take a step away, but halting realising this would perhaps be an ideal opportunity to speak to the Nurse about what seemed to have been distracting her this past day or so. Sister would take great care in the spirits of her nurses and she had noticed the slumped shoulders and the usually chipper newlywed only engaging in conversation when she had to and uncharacteristically daydreaming.

Sister Julienne knew in her heart of hearts that it would not be a problem between husband and wife as the Constable would still dutifully deliver and collect his wife to and from Nonnatus at every given opportunity. The Sister had smiled, just this morning, when she had heard her affectionately call him 'a fussy old woman' when he had walked her to the top step after apparently insisting the end of Lodore Street was not good enough. She concluded that what was troubling this young woman was not her husband.

"Did I hear you say to Nurse Miller that you were having visitors?" Sister Julienne asked as she took a seat opposite.

"Yes Sister. My brother".

"Which one? I fear there are a number to choose from" Sister Julienne continued.

"Bob" Chummy replied, smiling realising her error to give him his full title. "Robert. My sister in law Veronica too. He is my eldest brother".

"They are the ones with the three little girls?" Sister Julienne enquired. "In Australia?"

"Yes Sister". Chummy was quite surprised. She had barely talked about her family in front of anyone but Peter, but she ought to have known that the Sister would have retained every single ounce of information about her nurses.

"I have to say Nurse you do not sound enthralled to see them".

Chummy looked up to see the Sister's frown.

"Oh I am Sister, believe me. It's just, well, they are coming from Australia via Madeira and Mater will be coming with them to London".

"Ah" Sister Julienne responded quietly, she too recalling her own thoughts and feelings towards Lady Browne, her charitable nature to the fore as ever as she tried to find a way to justify such an objection to an adult child's decision to simply fall in love. She had only seen part, as had everybody under the roof of Nonnatus, of the strained relationship of mother and child and could not begin to imagine exactly what her nurse was holding inside herself. Sister Julienne could often find a way with most people but she had truly struggled with Lady Browne to engage her in the most fundamental of conversations.

"And she intends to inspect again I would imagine?" she asked, willing to suggest another tea at Nonnatus if only to attempt to occupy Lady Browne for a few hours further.

"I really do not know Sister. I know Veronica would like to visit though. Would you have any objections? She always sounds so very enthusiastic about the place when she writes!" Chummy said, feeling from the letters that her sister in law had written that she was truly interested in the workings of Nonnatus and the patients it served.

"Of course not. She is most welcome as is your mother". The end of the sentence fell from Sister Julienne's mouth in a most hesitant manner.

"I know I should not speak ill of my own mother but I am in such a muddle", Chummy noted, the Sister not responding but more than willing to lend an ear in times of strife.

"I want her to approve of me but I want to be happy too" Chummy continued, turning the top on the tube in front of her. "She wanted me married for more years than I care to remember and when I do marry…..I know she thinks Peter is out of the wrong drawer".

"But _you_ are happy in your marriage and _your _choice?"

"Yes, ever so Sister" she replied as the Sister saw light wash its way across her face at the mention of her decision that led her to walk down the aisle of All Saints barely five weeks ago.

"Then you will find the strength in that. For my own benefit it was such a joy that Constable Noakes did not object to you returning to work and we did not lose you".

"He knows I want to stay here Sister. He wants me to be happy". Chummy laughed to herself. "That's all he ever says – _'I want you to be happy Camilla. That's all'_ - and even if I had never met Peter I would still want to stay at Nonnatus regardless of what she might say".

"And I will do my utmost to keep you here Nurse" Sister Julienne continued, the conviction clear. "You are an asset to us and I for one would like it to stay that way too. Your mother has her own beliefs and ideals and whilst I am sure we wonder what motivates a person sometimes, I could see that she may be of the view that what she is saying is for the best. The East End and its ways is not a place she is accustomed to I imagine".

Chummy smiled "No you are correct there, Sister. She thinks I could have so much more. I can see that but its dresses and jewellery and a house I could lose myself in. She cannot see that one simply does not share that ideal".

"And 'ideal' to you is what you have now?"

"When I married him I felt as though the handcuffs were removed". Chummy smiled for a moment realising what she had said.

"You are bound to your husband by choice and love and not by accident of birth Nurse. We cannot control who we are borne to. We see that every day".

Chummy nodded. "We do"

Sister Julienne smiled as she saw a figure approach from the hallway. "Speaking of which" she said, lowering her voice so only her Nurse heard before she addressed the visitor.

"Constable? Would you care to stay for supper?"

Peter arrived at his wife's side and looked to her for a moment and saw a slight nod.

"Yes that would be lovely. Thank you Sister"

He saw Sister Julienne walk to the back of the kitchen to busy herself in preparing the table and he sat down next to Chummy.

"You're early", she whispered.

"Only a few minutes" he remarked quietly, seeing the clock land precisely on seven minutes to six. "I er, wanted to speak to you whilst it was quiet anyway".

"Oh?" she replied, intruiged.

"I've just had a rather interesting conversation".

"Who with?" she asked.

"Your brother".


	3. Chapter 3

"Early?!" Chummy whispered as he recounted the telephone call from his brother in law.

He had been just about to get undressed for bed, eyes closing by the moment as he had pulled back the covers. Sleeping in the middle of the day was not the most favourable of activities but after three night shifts in a row, and another that night, it was somewhat of an unwelcome necessity. Closing the curtains to obstruct the temporary annoyance of daylight he had been most pleased that Camilla had intentionally purchased thick, dark material to fashion these curtains which had a rather pleasing effect of plunging the room into as much a version of night as possible.

A glass of water safely installed on the bedside table, he had just been able to draw his jumper over his head when the telephone rang to a voice he did not recognise.

_"__I gather one is finally speaking to one's brother in law don't you say?"_

Just as his wife was 'just call me Chummy' - even though Peter actually never did - her eldest brother, Lieutenant Robert Alexander Fortescue-Cholmondeley-Browne was just the same.

_"Just call me Bob Browne and be done with it! Such an appallingly impractical name to be saddled with otherwise!"_ he had announced within seconds of the telephone being answered. Peter had never met any of his wife's brothers but Bob had seemed, at least on the face of it, affable and friendly and he found himself liking him from a single conversation. His voice was, however, also rather vociferous in its tone, breaking through Peter's tiredness.

The difficulty of the matter facing them, to Peter, had always been clear. With Bob Browne came his mother in law and now listening to the voice at the end of the telephone, that familial visit was to be earlier than they had expected.

_"__We've decided to pop across in rather quick time from the island old chap! Just a week or so early so you had best warn the girl as Mother will be with Vronny and me"._

He knew his wife, when he had finally worked out that she was 'the girl', would not be best pleased and to be truthful, Peter was not feeling entirely festive about the prospect either of having to address his mother in law's presence almost a fortnight earlier than expected.

"Bob said that Veronica's sister was going to be in London unexpectedly and she wanted to meet up with her, so they were coming early" he said as Peter continued to recount the conversation, realising the colour had still not returned to his wife's face. "Something about your mother not wanting to travel on her own in the depths of winter with your father being in Ireland already".

"Pa's in Ireland?" Chummy replied, feeling distinctly and decidedly bewildered. She could not place the last time she saw her father; knowing he should have been walking her down the aisle instead of Fred even though she was ever grateful to the handyman.

Peter nodded. "Apparently"

He saw her take a breath. "Well one does suppose then that I should spend Sunday sprucing up the house" she commented quietly.

"It doesn't need 'sprucing up', Camilla" he replied. "We haven't been in there long enough to make that much of a mess".

"The catch on the kitchen window needs fixing" she announced and he could see her anxiety levels begin to rise, distracted and becoming swiftly preoccupied with what to him was a relatively minor problem. He did not know his mother in law well enough yet to realise that she would spot every single defect on the inevitable visit and it would be added to his list of inadequacies as a husband. Chummy could hear the dictums already.

_"__You do realise you could have anyone climb in through that window! He clearly has no thoughts for your safety"._

_"__Mater, we are four floors up"_

"I've done it Camilla", he replied, having ticked off that job from the list just that morning on his return from work and before he took himself to bed. There was a note of sternness in his voice but he had quickly realised that when she was upset or restless that for some reason she would immediately respond to that slight tightness he displayed.

"So when are they arriving?" she asked. The sooner she knew, she supposed, the better.

"Friday into Southampton. London on Saturday".

She nodded again, plastering a smile to her face that he could see right through.

"Well I suppose there is little one can do about it!" she replied taking his hand knowing that the forced jollity she was displaying was little more than a facade. "How was Bob?"

Before he could speak a gaggle of bodies, laughing and joking, suddenly entered the kitchen and behind them, Sister Bernadette.

"Ladies please! Do not forget decorum!" the Sister exclaimed gently, hearing the vast volume of sudden calamity that seemed to engulf the quiet environment of the kitchen.

"Sorry Sister" Trixie replied, slipping into a seat opposite Peter; Jenny and Cynthia at her either side.

"We do have visitors!" Sister Bernadette teased, referring to Peter and Chummy who were occupying the two seats to her right.

"Chummy's not a visitor!" Trixie retorted in good humour.

"All the same" she replied quietly as both Sister Julienne and Sister Evangelina arrived, the latter bearing a tray laden with sliced cake and a pot of tea. She took a cup and saucer from Sister Monica Joan's usual spot at the head of the table.

"Is Sister Monica Joan not joining us?" Cynthia asked, immediately concerned, having seen the elderly Sister depart upstairs only a few minutes earlier.

"No, she is not" Sister Evangelina replied. "And if I had wanted to become a waitress I would have taken up a post at McIntyre's long ago!" The Sister turned on her heel at the mention of the local dining rooms and the entirety of the rest of Nonnatus suddenly decided that the empty plates in front of them were far more engaging.

As supper progressed Chummy felt slightly better. Always the company of friends lifted her spirits and from time to time a reassuring hand squeezed her knee and she had to suppress a smile. He always had the most appropriate ways of distracting her from her troubles and, although going home to an empty flat did not worry her, she much preferred that she could reach out in the middle of the night and find the solidity of his form.

There were some days though when she simply did not know what to think about the prospect of her mother's visit. She had hoped and prayed, and prayed and hoped, that it could not be worse than last time; that dreadful fear when she almost sacrificed the one person who – now – she knew could love her for the rest of her life. The realisation that she was capable of being loved was such a revelation and the one thing that she was determined to do this time was not let Mater touch the bond that she and her husband had forged in these last few weeks. Bob's letter however had only sought to infiltrate what sensibilities she had and the prospect remained somewhat alarming.

As she kissed Peter goodbye and closed the door behind him as he walked into the night to start his shift, her eyes filled with unwanted and unbidden tears. There were these occasions where she simply had this overwhelming, desperate need to push herself under the covers and just _cry_.

She hoped her tears would dry before he returned in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

The week dripped by until Friday. Thankfully these past few days and nights had been so busy that she had barely had time to think of the impending arrival of her mother and sibling and when she did have those moments of peace, she consciously found other occupation. Cards with Trixie as they waited for a call and sitting with Cynthia as she taught her the ways and means of a sewing machine, she had managed to not have a minute to herself deliberately working herself into tiredness each night that the moment her head rested on the pillow she was asleep.

If she had moments to herself she would have undoubtedly found herself thinking and feeling that stomach churning activity inside so it was best to be occupied.

She had found too that Sister Julienne would always ask of her welfare more than usual when she had confessed to the visit taking place earlier than had been planned.

Now, as half past eight on that final Friday night approached she was just about to put her hand on the kettle when the telephone rang. It was a telephone call that she might have been expecting all day and she felt her heart jump in her chest.

From his half asleep state on the settee, Peter hoped she was in a better position to answer the ring.

"Camilla?" he enquired. From her place in the kitchen she heard the plaintive request for her attention.

"I'm going!" she replied. He heard the ringing stop and a half a conversation before she reappeared by the living room door.

"Please don't tell me that was work wanting either of us in?" This has been almost two weeks of nights now, the latter few nights covering for a colleague who had fallen ill and he was looking forward to just that one night where he and his wife were in the same place at the same time.

Chummy smiled as he looked up at her, lying slumped, head resting on a cushion. A glass of Whiskey was sitting on the arm of the settee still attached to his hand. He looked worn out.

"No, "she smiled, thankful at least for this evening at home. "It was Bob. They've arrived in Southampton".

She sat on the floor leaning against the seat that he was draped over, resting her head on his knee. He offered her his Whiskey glass, which she took and let a mouthful of the dark liquid burn her throat before giving it back to him. She still wasn't convinced about it at all.

As she let her muscles breathe, she felt his hand begin to toy with the chain of her necklace, twisting and turning it letting his fingers run between the gold and her skin. It seemed to be a favourite hobby of his now, possibly due to his renewed knowledge that the particular aspect of skin was more than sensitive. She was not however, as much as the touch of his fingertips was soothing, in the mood to do very much more than sleep.

"Did he say where they were staying in London?" Peter asked.

"A flat in Knightsbridge", she responded having quickly scribbled down the address, knowing one day she would be summoned. It was an address she recognised of old belonging to a friend of the family who had departed into retirement in Penzance some years previously but kept the flat for occasional use or lending as the case could be.

She had propped her head to one side barely feeling the tips of his fingers as they gently rested, ghosting over her skin. He could tell she was still concerned if only due to her quietness feeling the blood noticeably thump in the artery in her neck, skipping from hearing her brother's voice on the telephone.

"You have always got on with your brothers though" he mused, having heard story after story of them and their achievements that undoubtedly pleased their mother beyond recognition.

"Yes" she replied, before stopping herself. "Well, most of the time" she added, recalling some of the fistfights they used to have too and the time she broke her brother's nose when he had pushed her over into the tarmac of the courtyard at the back of the English house. She still had the scars on her knees when she had been propelled to the ground with such force that her only reaction had been in fear and instinctive anger. It was probably the first and only time she had reacted in such a way, being usually so petrified of any form of confrontation.

"But it's been such an age since we were all in the same room together". She paused. "I was trying to remember the last time we were all together today and it finally came to me when one was walking home. It was Harry's engagement party. That was three Christmas' ago".

"Three years?!" Peter responded. He was quite shocked. He had no siblings left but his parents were two streets away now they had moved to the married quarters and there were the trips to the farm to see his aunt and uncle on a most regular basis. The thought of not being surrounded by his family saddened him and that was one of the reasons, knowing her background, why he would ensure that this house was filled with love and in time, children's laughter.

"They were engaged three Christmas' ago" she repeated. "We were all summoned to Bob's house in Sydney for the grand announcement. Mater had arranged the party, the Tatler and the Illustrated London News were there and I _think_ that was the last time were all together in the same room".

"What about the wedding? Did you not go?"

"They ran off to New York" she responded, remembering her mother's furious letter telling her of the news. "Mater was appalled, but she forgave him because of Anna".

She saw his forehead crease.

"Anna'a father is one of the State Governor's in Australia" she explained. "It's a 'suitable arrangement' and that was why she forgave him so quickly".

Peter digested the thought of an 'arrangement' where someone would choose your wife for you most notably for status and undoubtedly in her mother's case, social gain. He had no 'status' other than Poplar copper, son of Irene and Billy, brother of Philip, devoted husband to Camilla and hopefully one day 'Dad'. Nothing else was needed and he had found it most strange that you could found a marriage having to learn to love your wife.

"You know I am just nervous" she said.

"And I know how to solve that" he replied, getting up and sliding down to sit next to her, presenting her with the Whiskey glass again. She laughed and took another taste. It was not so disagreeable this time but even after two mouthfuls it was going to her head.

"Are you trying to get me squiffy?"

"Camilla, it takes very little to get you drunk. I don't have to try very hard" he replied, with a laugh remembering the handful of times she quickly passed her limit and how giggly and relaxed she became. He draped an arm over her shoulder.

"I'm cold", she announced suddenly. With that he dragged the throw off the sofa behind them and wrapped it around them both pulling her to him so her head was resting on his shoulder, her arm around his middle. She relaxed for the first time all day; his shoulder was always a comfortable spot. She pulled him closer feeling the warmth radiating from him, stroking his stomach aimlessly with her hand as a kiss touched her forehead.

"Shall we just to go up?" she asked, suddenly desperate for comfort. "Save falling asleep here".

He glanced at this watch. "Its only half past eight".

"And?" she replied.

"No you're right. I can't keep my eyes open".


	5. Chapter 5

Lady Frances Fortescue-Cholmondeley-Browne adored being surrounding by her friends and acquaintances, being the centre of attention at any gathering particularly today with her striking eldest son at her side. Veronica had been somewhat exhausted by the journey and, in a plea of her delicate state, Lady Browne had taken her hand and excused her from attendance. She had a soft spot for her eldest son's wife who had always, in her eyes been such a good, _compliant_, girl.

Lady Browne's diary had been swiftly packed with engagements and appointments at this unexpected time in London and the invitation from a friend of old, Lady Capstick, to her evening gathering had been a welcome addition that Saturday just after their early morning arrival at Waterloo station.

"So, Frances" her schoolfriend began, taking a sip of her favourite tipple. "One has heard everything about your boys in your letters, but nothing whatsoever about your girl. It's been what? 10 years at least since I saw her?"

"Camilla is well" Lady Browne responded curtly. Generally she tried to keep her counsel on the subject of her youngest child and only daughter, who was normally a topic to avoid, particularly in the light of the incomprehensible way she had decided or been influenced to conduct her life. Gossip tended to take like wildfire around her circle and the prospect of those pitiful looks of this child was more than Lady Browne could bear. She had often been asked about a husband or children but until this last year she had at least been able to say that there was no husband and her daughter was engaged in charitable works. These 'charitable works' however were never particularly elaborated upon beyond 'nursing' and a rapid change of subject onto the more comfortable areas of her husband's latest business venture or her son's growing families.

"So what has she been doing with her time these days?" Lady Capstick pressed, genuinely interested in the fate of her friend's daughter. "She must be what? 30?"

"32" Lady Browne replied.

"She is still undertaking this 'nursing' of hers?" Lady Capstick asked, thinking perhaps what occupied Camilla Browne was the type of 'nursing' she undertook during the War - of visiting, talking and perhaps organising events to raise funds for soldiers who were repatriated, rather than bed pans, blood and babies.

"Nonnatus House". It was the first time that Lady Browne had not been able to avoid the question, pinned into a physical and metophorical corner by her friend.

"I must say I've never heard of such a place. Is it a private hospital?" she was asked, seeing Bob arrive at her side with a smile and a nod in greeting, bearing a glass of wine to wash down what had been a rather pleasing dinner at the hands of their host's new French chef.

"No", Lady Browne replied. "Nonnatus House is a Convent".

"Oh! How very odd", she heard seeing her friend frown. "Still, one does suppose if there is no risk of a husband on the horizon she had to engage with some kind of occupation".

"Oh no…." Bob chipped in, careful not to use his sister's nickname as he knew his mother could not bear it. "Camilla married. It must be about 5 or 6 weeks ago now, wasn't it Mother?" He saw his mother bristle and tried to keep his face as frigid as he could.

"Frances!" came the shocked response. "You never told us this! Another wedding to buy a hat for and we never knew?"

"It was only a quiet affair", Lady Browne responded, which was the truth. "Camilla wished it that way". Bob could feel the ice pervading from his mother's skin even more than usual and saw more than a spark of interest in her friend's eye at the apparent, almost secretive, events that had taken place.

"So who is it? I did hear that Elizabeth Gallagher's youngest married about 5 or 6 weeks ago. Not Edward surely? Such a clever boy but a little wet around the ears" she continued, shaking her head briefly at her description of her other friend's son.

"His name is Peter Noakes" Bob replied for his mother. He could see the steam slowly start to seep out of her ears and as much as he adored his mother, he knew how much of a terrible elitist she could be. His attempts at defending his sister when they were children were usually met with derision and futility but he knew his mother was on the back foot.

"Never heard of the family" came the dismissive response from his mother's friend. Bob could see that his mother was about to say 'one is not surprised' but she refrained.

"A fine chap he is too though, don't you agree Mother?" Bob questioned, raising his eyebrows and pointedly addressing her. Bob had only ever had the one conversation with Peter, but it had been somewhat extensive. He also knew his sister and if his sister trusted him, after everything she had gone through as a child and young adult, then it was good enough for her brother. He had no hesitation in realising that the country around him was changing, progressing and the world he once inhabited of Winchester and the first XI were slowly dissipating from sight and the time of the upper classes was waning so he had been quite pleased that his sister had set herself away from the herd.

With his question, his mother took one look at him and excused herself to the shocked face of her counterpart. Bob tried to suppress a smile, taking a sip of wine to somehow otherwise occupy his lips.

"Your mother not amused at the match then Bob?" Lady Capstick whispered under her breath, careful to ensure that her question was not overheard, a few heads having turned Lady Browne's way as her patent heels clicked away across the floor.

"Not in the least!" he replied.

"But why? After all her efforts these past years in trying to marry the poor gel off you would think she would be happy she succeeded at last".

"Oh no", Bob replied. "She had very little to do with it. My sister's choice through and through".

Lady Capstick would freely admit she was confused. "Then I cannot say I understand completely. From what I remember of young Camilla she seemed to have quite a sensible head on her shoulders. What on earth has he done that makes him so undesirable? Don't tell me he's a gambler or a swindler?"

"Quite the opposite!" Bob replied. "A Policeman".

Bob saw Lady Capstick's eyes widen. "It is an admirable profession" she choked out, realising why Camilla's mother was reticent to discuss her daughter. Daughters of these families married stockbrokers, land owners and sons with their father's money to spend, not police officers.

"So where is he from?" she asked.

"Poplar".

"That's the East end isn't it?" she replied seeing a nod. "No wonder your mother is sour. And she chose to go there?"

"Entirely".

"Each to their own I believe is the phrase". She paused, suppressing a smile at this wonderful snippet of gossip. "So how close did Frances come to have an aneurysm when she found out?"

"I was thankfully out of the country at the time, but one imagines it was inches!" Bob remarked as he noted that his mother deep in conversation on the opposite side of the room. He would have to go over to her, smile and pacify her, knowing he could wrap his mother around his little finger and any toes he had stepped on would be forgiven.

Not realising they were the subject of conversation in some distant room, Chummy dozed in her husband's arms, his hand gently traced the curve of her hip.

"Peter?"

"Hmmm?"

"When our family comes" she said, almost feeling his heart stop. She quickly realised why and that, as far as she knew, he was firmly on the wrong track. "No," she said, laying her hand on his. "One doesn't think that Mother Nature has acted quite that quickly, but when that does happen, will you promise me one thing?"

"Of course", he replied, settling closer to her burrowing into the mattress, hearing her exhale.

"If I become like my mother..."

"Sssshhhh" he stopped her, turning her chin. "You will not be like your mother. Don't you dare even think like that, Camilla".

"But if I do?"

"No", he replied. "No, no and no". Each slow expression of disagreement was punctuated with a kiss. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Of course" she replied, that element of her voice suppressing how much of a foolish question she felt it was. Of course she trusted him.

"Then you will not be your mother, believe me and you will not".

She nodded. As much as she did trust every word that fell from his mouth, she was not entirely convinced he could see into the future and it worried her.


	6. Chapter 6

"You are so quiet" he said suddenly, toying with the remainder of the potato on his plate.

"Am I?" she asked, her voice high and almost falsetto, realising though he was entirely right simply not having the strength raise a conversation.

"Yes. You've barely touched your dinner and I know you didn't sleep properly last night". She had tossed and turned and he had lost count of the times he had felt the mattress dip and lift, wriggling away from his clutches as he wrapped his arms around her, just to let her know he was here. "And don't think I haven't noticed that the house is spotless" he continued, the smell of furniture polish and disinfectant assaulting him as soon as he had stepped over the threshold earlier that evening.

"So is it always a mess?" The moment the question flew out of her mouth she regretted it. She was edgy, jumpy and knew she had snapped at Trixie before and still felt so entirely guillty even though her friend had waved away any bother.

"I never said it was messy, Camilla" he said, ducking his head to catch her eye as she stared at her plate.

"I know you didn't" she replied, quickly, her face creasing in apology. "I'm sorry" she continued, just stopping herself so on the brink that tears were sure to flow shortly if he said one word of sympathy or showed a modicum of concern.

She reached across the table and squeezed his hand.

"Stop worrying about your mother" he said quietly.

"I can't help it Peter", she replied before she paused. "And one feels so very bilious" Chummy continued, resting a hand just above the belt of her uniform, her fork abandoned on the plate.

He smiled and placing his knife and fork down gently on his now clean plate, seeing she had in reality barely touched the dinner she had prepared. "What have you eaten today?"

She thought for a second as he got up and walked to her side, laying his hand gently on the back of her neck, the immediate warmth soothing her as she breathed pointedly. A piece of toast before Mrs Barrett and half a slice of Victoria Sponge before the other Mrs Noakes in Chrisp Street who had transpired to be Peter's distant cousin's wife and well, until now, that had been it. She barely had an answer for him but her eyes told him more as she looked up.

"Try and eat something, please" he begged, seeing in her eyes how lost she was feeling. "I don't want you to go back being on call not having eaten. No wonder you feel sick. Just something". She saw him push the fork closer to her and as she picked it up she felt a brief kiss to her cheek.

"I'll make some tea before I walk you back to Nonnatus" he continued, taking himself away from her to the kettle.

"No Peter, there's no need" she said, cautiously and forcibly swallowing a modest piece of chicken.

"It's pitch black out there and very necessary", he replied as the kettle slowly boiled, seeing her about to protest again. "Don't argue with me Camilla" he continued, in very good heart. He could tick her off but it was always with a smile and her realisation he was probably right.

His wife safely installed at Nonnatus and with a quick and quiet word to Cynthia to ensure his wife's welfare, he returned home bolting the front door, thinking that a glass of Whiskey would be welcome and perhaps an hour or two of study then an hour of the radio and he would be ready for bed. He had only taken up his books for a few moments when there was a gentle knock on the front door.

Wondering who it was, he straightened his shirt and opened the door. A woman stood before him, perfectly coiffed almost black hair, deep red lipstick and nails to match. She was dressed to the nines with a pillbox hat, immaculate, groomed and entirely out of place in Poplar.

"Peter?" she asked, seeing him nod.

"Oh how perfectly wonderful!" She sounded relieved.

"The Driver almost got himself in the most terrible pickle trying to find you". She realised she had not introduced herself, seeing his confused face. "I'm sorry" the woman said, stretching out her hand in a most genteel manner. "Ronnie. Veronica. Bob's wife?"

He realised immediately, taking her hand, and apologised. "Yes, sorry. Peter. Come in, please"

She smiled and stepped over the threshold leaving a cloud of thick, cloying perfume behind her. "One escaped from Bob and Lady B!" she announced, undoing the deep blue swing coat she was wearing. "It was almost like a military operation trying to get out of that blasted flat! I think Lady B assumes London is just going to swallow me up!"

"Come through" he said, realising the living room was now not entirely tidy with his books scattered across the table having certainly not been expecting visitors at this time of night.

"I do realise I have rather encroached", she replied sheepishly as he took her coat from her to hang up. "But I really wanted to have a bit of a chin wag with my sister in law without little ears".

"She is at work I'm afraid, but can I make you a tea? Sit down please" he said, arm outstretched indicating one of the fire side chairs.

"Thank you" Veronica replied, taking up the seat that did not have a book propped on the arm. "I am afraid tea rather disagrees with me these past few weeks though" she replied, brushing her hand over her clearly pregnant form that had been disguised by her coat. He sat down opposite her.

"Actually that was why I sneaked out to see her as well as saying 'hello'. One has felt thoroughly awful since we left Cape Town and I just wondered if she could, well, listen to the baby. If I went to Bob's doctor here - well, the entire world would know". Her mother in law would know and well, that was just to difficult to contemplate.

Peter thought for a second. "Well they have a morning clinic tomorrow in All Saints Parish Hall. You could always go then?"

He saw Veronica smile. "Yes, yes I think I will. Thank you".

"Are you sure I can't get you a hot drink? Its freezing out there"

"Oh not to worry about a little weather! Baby is keeping me warm!"

"I do have something for Chummy though," she carried on, producing a letter from her bag. "The girls wanted me to give her this so I am entrusting you". She handed over a pink envelope clearly laden with all kinds of wares which he took into his safekeeping.

"I have been warned to take the very best care of it. I have no idea what's in there", Veronica smiled, remembering the very earnest faces of her three young daughters as they cornered her in her bedroom one morning; the serious and subdued face of nine year old Genevieve imploring her to ensure that Aunty Camilla received their missive.

"I will make sure she gets it tomorrow morning."

"Thank you" Veronica replied. "I am so sorry to just land on you like this".

"It's not a problem", Peter responded with a smile. "You have saved me from these books!"

At Nonnatus, Jenny and Cynthia were in deep conversation, tucked away in the corner of the garden huddled up together sharing a coat as the night drew in.

"Did you speak to Chummy before?" Cynthia asked, concern clear in her voice as she pulled the coat collar closer.

"No. Not really", Jenny replied, having only seen her for a matter of seconds. "We crossed paths when I came back from Mrs Lillywhite. Why?"

"Oh, just something Peter said. That he was worried about her and to make sure she ate".

Jenny had noticed this last couple of days too that her friend did seem to be actively avoiding the dinner table and when she did partake, she would pick at the food and quickly excuse herself. She had almost on occasion inadvertently interrupted Sister Julienne in her attempts to talk to Chummy and one thing she always understood about her friend was that she would seek help when she felt ready and confident to do so.

"It must be that mother of hers" Jenny continued. "She has been so quiet these last few days and she did say that she was in London now".

"I wonder if we will get another visit? It was so horrible last time; that tea party was like slow torture" Cynthia replied, shivering inwardly at that desperately awkward event with long silences and the consequences thereafter. "I felt so bad for Chummy and Peter, for that".

"I can't wonder what it would be like to not get on with your own mother" Jenny mused. "To not feel as though your mother loves you".

Cynthia nodded, hearing the telephone ring inside Nonnatus. "I always knew Mum loved me and would do anything she could to make me happy. I wonder how her mother just simply...cannot...".

"Me too" Jenny replied, having only that morning had a long, wordy letter from her mother, filled with all the family news.

Cynthia saw Sister Julienne standing in the doorway to the quadrant, beckoning them over.

"Mrs Morgan's twins, ladies if you could?"


	7. Chapter 7

"Excuse me?" came the voice from the body of the Parish Hall, bedecked in chairs and examination tables ready for the morning clinic.

Sister Bernadette and Trixie, from their place behind one of the curtains, heard the voice and stepped out, not expecting anybody for at least another twenty or so minutes.

"This is the Nonnatus clinic?" she asked, walking across the floor, tucking her handbag under her arm.

"Yes, it is" Trixie replied, disconcerted at this rather well dressed figure arriving in the middle of Poplar. "Although we are not strictly taking patients at the moment".

"But, if it is an emergency?" Sister Bernadette interrupted, ever so careful that the reason for the visit could be some worry or concern regarding the life that was clearly growing inside this visitor.

"Well, it is in a way", she replied. "Peter did say I could come and I know I am awfully early".

"Peter?" Trixie replied, knowing only one. "Chummy's Peter?"

"Yes," the woman replied, flustered. "I am sorry! One always forgets one should introduce oneself first before bursting into song! Veronica Browne" she smiled stretching her hand elegantly towards Trixie and then Sister Bernadette. "Chummy's sister in law"

"Yes of course!", Sister Bernadette replied smiling "She has talked about you so much. She is not going to be in clinic though. In fact I do believe she may be at home".

"Oh" Veronica replied, disappointment obvious in her voice. smoothing a hand over her stomach. "I was hoping to see her and well ask her a favour".

"Is it anything we could help with?" Sister Bernadette asked.

"No, well, yes" she replied. "I was hoping that one could an quick once over. I have felt simply rotten since our journey and I'd would just like to know baby is fit and well."

"Well I can attend to that" Sister Bernadette replied, "if you would like me to?"

"Would you? How wonderful! Thank you" Veronica replied, relieved.

"Hop up onto the bed and I can have a listen to Baby whilst its quiet". She felt Sister Bernadette take her by the elbow and guide her into one of the cubicles as Trixie went to fold sheets next door.

"So how far along are you?" The Sister asked.

"22 just before we left Australia, so 25 now", Veronica replied, taking off her coat and lying on the examination table, exposing her rapidly growing stomach.

"I would say that was most correct" Sister Bernadette continued as she rolled the tape measure away. "Measuring exactly 25 on the dot".

She saw her patient smile as the pinard was placed on her stomach. "I have just felt simply terrible, but I do wonder if it was the boat journey that was the culprit. I never sleep well away from home and I am rather tired I feel".

"Well Baby seems most happy where he or she is", Sister Bernadette continued, listening intently to the regular and very audible rhythm of the child's heartbeat.

"One supposes" Veronica continued, as the gentle hands of the Sister palpated her stomach, feeling for Baby's lie, "that I ought to be used to it by now - this pregnancy lark - but this one has been so very different".

"You have girls?"

"Yes. Three. I have photographs at the flat that I was going to bring Chummy but I shall bring them for you all when I finally catch up with her!" She paused. "I think this one might be a young chap at last even though Bob wants another girl".

"Sit up for me please" Sister Bernadette continued, slipping into Nurse mode, as she took up the blood pressure monitor. "How has your blood pressure been?"

"Low. But then again it has always been low; even before my girls".

"Dizziness?"

"None" Veronica replied, hearing the hiss of air from the blood pressure cuff.

"90 over 60" Sister Bernadette noted. "That is low, but if you do say it was low before your pregnancies, I very much doubt it is much to be concerned about now".

"Thank you Sister. You have no idea how much you have put my mind at rest", she continued straightening her dress. "I do wish Chummy was here. She has no idea about the baby and I wanted to surprise her. I might telephone her if she is at home".

"She is back on duty tomorrow afternoon if you do not catch her".

"Wonderful! Thank you so very much. I know one is repeating ones self, but you have no concept of how much help you have been!" Sister Bernadette saw the hand outstretched to her again and took it.

"I would suggest rest and relaxation after that journey. It would be difficult enough for someone who was not pregnant, so no rushing around and plenty of sleep".

"I will Sister. I will sleep better now I am not rocking from side to side!" Veronica laughed, tipping her head to imitate what had been a relatively awful boat journey.

Trixie, who had now removed herself to the ante room, and Sister Bernadette watched Veronica totter out of the Hall.

"I like her" Trixie said.

Still not knowing of her sister in law's visit, Chummy lumped a very full washing basket from the kitchen to the living room, finding her husband deep in his books. As soon as she set the basket down, behind them the telephone rang and with a smile Peter went to answer it, desperate for a break to stretch his legs, as she started to plug in the iron. The telephone call was brief and to the point and Peter reappeared barely a minute later.

"Who was it?" she asked, shaking out a Police shirt. He did not reply immediately, instead standing in the door way. "Peter?" she asked with a smile wondering what on earth the telephone call was. Abandoning the shirt laying it haphazardly down, she walked across. "What ever's the matter?"

"That was your mother" he enunciated quietly.

"Oh" was all she could muster in response.

"Inspection at half past eleven sharp tomorrow" he replied in a most military like manner, even though she could hear weariness. "It's a good job my shift doesn't start until noon so I can be here for at least a little while".

Chummy cleared her throat. "Well one does suppose I ought to finish these shirts then and make sure they are ironed before I can be criticised for a crease on a sleeve".

"I've never criticised you". He had completely gained the wrong end of the stick and she turned back. "Not you my darling" she replied, slipping her hands into his. "Her". She pulled him from the doorway and he followed, instead taking her to the settee and placing her down.

"I can change my shift if you want me to" he said, before he saw her shake her head.

"No, she is my mother. One should be able to attend to _one_ visit without having an army of support".

"As long as you are sure. I can change the shift and you can change your mind".

She shook her head vehemently. "Thank you, but no", she continued, reaching across to kiss him in thanks. On the receiving end of an attempt to deepen the kiss, she placed a hand on his chest. "Hold onto that idea until I've finished that washing basket". She saw him pull a face that was nothing but a scowl and laughed.

"Second place to a creased shirt" he muttered as she got up, feeling her hand smooth over his cheek as she walked away. She could just about see him in the mirror above the fireplace, still scowling with his arms across his chest like a petulant five year old who had been refused his favourite pudding.

"Three creased shirts and two uniforms actually" she clarified.

The scowl lessened slightly when he remembered the pink envelope he had been passed for her.

"I was entertaining another woman last night anyway".

The thought that he was seriously confessing to adulterous behaviour never crossed her mind as she placed the iron carefully down. It did catch her attention though sufficiently well for her to enquire further.

"And who might that have been? Don't tell me it's that one from next door?" Next door was an elderly lady who must have been nearing her early 80s.

"Actually she was rather pretty" he replied casually.

"Peter!"

"Said her name was Veronica".

"What? Ronnie's been here and you failed to tell me?!" she exclaimed shooting across the room to the seat next to him.

"I haven't seen you to tell you".

"No," she replied. "That's true".

She saw him reach over and from the middle of one his law books, pulled out an overstuffed pink envelope.

"From the girls. Veronica came here last night to see you". He did not tell her about her sister in law's pregnancy, Veronica's last words to him being a plea not to tell his wife as she wanted to tell her herself.

"Oh, that's such a shame" she replied then thinking for a moment. "Mind you, there will be plenty of chances" she ruminated as she opened the envelope. Taking out its contents onto her knee a cacophony of pink and purple assaulted her. Carefully separating the wares she noticed a folded drawing and turned it over so they could see.

"That must be you and me" she exclaimed, seeing the two figures - a Policeman and a bride in the most enormous flouncy wedding dress imaginable - with stick arms and legs. Peter took the drawing, smiling as he did so. "It's a very good likeness!"

"Apart from the dress" Chummy replied. "One would have looked like a cloud of marshmallow walking down the aisle in something like that!"

He watched as she separated what was intended to be a bracelet - haphazardly cut pink hearts speared with pink cotton accompanied by a small tapestry of a flower and the letter 'G'. Chummy smiled. It had been two years since she had seen young Genevieve as she skipped her way across the lawn of her father's house, trying desperately to teach her youngest sister - far too much of a youngster to even manage a step or two - to trip across the grass with her. Little Lissy - Alice - trying to stagger after her was somewhat of a sight. That baby would be 3 now and Rosie, 'Miss Petal' as her father called her affectionately, would be 7.

Another childlike drawing was produced from the envelope; clearly this time the three girls and a black cat. A new addition, Chummy thought.

Peter too had found a picture; this time a photograph. "Camilla, look" he said holding up the photograph. Chummy bit her bottom lip, seeing three faces staring at her, each with jet black hair dressed in their Sunday best.

"I do so wish Ronnie had been able to bring them. I really do".


	8. Chapter 8

Camilla trailed after her mother feelingly decidedly defeated as she inspected the small but comfortable Police married quarters. After her possibly excessive efforts at cleaning yesterday, with every surface gleaming, she prayed that the one speck of dust she had probably missed did not make itself known to her mother.

The Rolls Royce had arrived at half past eleven precisely and she had already endured her mother's barbs about the 'appallingly tiny' kitchen, the 'basic' dining room and her Mother's horror at the fact that her daughter and her husband slept in a double bed.

_'Still I imagine you simply do not have the space to accommodate two bedrooms'._

What pretended to be another bedroom was barely big enough to house a small child's bed let alone an adult. Besides, she thought to herself, why on earth would she want to sleep separately from her own husband? She knew her parents did and still found it strange not to be able to reach out to the person that you love for comfort, warmth or attention. That back bedroom was a storage room until it would house a cot, but if there were ever became to be more than three in that flat, she would have to ask Peter if they could be moved somewhere else.

"So this flat?" she continued as they stepped into the living room again. "Does he own it?"

"No Mater". Chummy knew this was coming. "It's married quarters".

"Charity?" her mother continued, not facing her, but clearly inspecting every inch of the room.

"No. Subsidised housing because he is a Policeman".

"Subsidised housing?!" her mother exclaimed, wheeling around. "You have been reduced to charity?"

"Its not charity, Mother. Married officers move out of the Section House into married quarters. The rent is subsidised so we'll only have to pay 52 and six a year". Chummy was trying to keep her voice as level as she could; not raising it, but desperately trying to sound the slightest bit confident.

"Its appalling" her mother announced, picking up a book from the table, flipping it back and forth. "You are my daughter and my daughter was brought up dining with royalty and taking tea at the Savoy. How on earth do you think that a policeman, with policeman's wages, can keep you in that manner?"

"Mother, I haven't been to the Savoy since long before I started my nursing training; you know I haven't".

"Camilla". Her mother's voice was soft and to Chummy, highly disconcerting. "You do not answer the question".

Chummy breathed. No, he could not keep her in that manner, but to be frank, she did not want to be 'kept' in any manner at all than the one she was currently in.

"No", she whispered and saw her mother nod her head sharply.

"How do you get to work?"

"We walk. Or take the bus".

"The bus? It staggers me that you get the bus to work when you could have enough money to buy this that entire street ten times over, you could have a lovely house in the country, a car…I presume as a Police Officer he can actually drive?"

"Yes".

"Then why, Camilla!? You could have so much, but you are satisfied with this?!"

"Yes I am". As much as she tried to sound determined, she was reduced, again, to that silly little girl with funny ideas.

"Well don't expect me to pick up the pieces for you when the novelty of this 'life' wears off! You wilfully married him knowing I was unhappy but we will not have a divorce in this family. I had enough difficulty explaining the marriage to our friends, so how in earth will I explain a divorce? I suppose you have told him that no more money will be coming to you from your father".

"Yes", she replied, choosing not to tell her mother that he had not been remotely concerned. She had told him on honeymoon of the existence of her vast trust fund and although she did not know exactly how much was in it, he had digested the news and his response had rung in her mind all night.

_ "I love you, I married you because I love you"._

"We had presumed you would marry well or as time passed, not marry at all. This situation is the most perplexing of all Camilla".

To her own mind Camilla had married more than well; she had married for love, not for convenience or status or because it suited her mother's pretentions. She adored Peter and was sure he felt the same. He certainly acted so.

"But you have made your own bed and you will have to lie in it without your father's help".

"Yes I have made my own bed and I like it!" It was the first time since she was a child that she had raised her voice to her mother and she shocked herself. The thought had been in her head but someone her mouth decided to articulate it. She must only have been about four or five when she answered back and the stinging of her father's belt was more than sufficient to ensure that what little strength was broken.

"The more time goes on the more of a disappointment you have become to me. I have to very much wonder if you think anything of your father and I at all. It was painful for me to tell him the wedding had taken place. Not wearing a white wedding gown for one! How do you think that looked to other people? My daughter getting married in blue at a moment's notice. You have a reputation to maintain! Behaviour like that belongs on the streets!"

Had her own mother just called her a whore?

"I now see what this life of yours is offering you. You have no morals any more. Giving yourself away to a common policeman. I do suppose he forced you?"

Chummy looked skywards, and took a deep breath.

"No. He did not force me". She paused. "He never has to force me". It slipped out much the same as the telephone call.

Her mother tutted and turned away with a look of disgust on her face

"Mater, if this is such a terrible situation, why did you come to the wedding?"

"I wanted to see the spectacle with my own eyes. I wanted to see if you would see sense, but we will see in a year or two when his eye starts wandering. I am sure there are numerous loose women who would take up a police officer in this Godforsaken place".

It was like someone had just stabbed her in the chest. Her mother knew exactly how to wound her, how to scare her and how to eat away at what little self esteem she had. Her heart started to race as she took deep breaths to calm herself down before she said what her brain was thinking. She knew deep down that he would never, and had never, even glanced at another woman in all the time that he had known her, but there could always be that day and whilst Chummy had never thought it possible she had learned in her thirty two years that anything could happen.

"One doesn't doubt he loves you in his own way" her mother continued, her voice rattling as Chummy breathed, desperately trying to gain some control. "But people like that, common people, no nothing of how to engage, how to behave. I saw you two when he left. Why in the Lord's name did you let him act like that in public?!"

He had kissed her twice; and the second time was only on the back of her hand. Her own doorstep was hardly public either.

"He cannot provide for you or God forbid, children. I will not have a grandchild of mine growing up in the East End of London!"

Camilla stood, pensive. A calm measured voice took over and it surprised her. "When I have Peter's children, I will have several if He so helps me, the day can't come soon enough". It was an exaggeration of the truth as she was truly petrified of her qualities as a mother, but her own parent need not know that. When she thought of how her husband would react she could see herself riding on that joy and gaining confidence from it.

Her mother snorted disapproval. "How idealistic you have become Camilla. It has always pained me that I cannot make you fit in. No matter what I did, no matter how much money your father and I spent, you are in the East End of London, living off charity with a beat bobby".

"Married quarters", Chummy repeated.

"Look at your sisters in law. Such good girls". That had to come. Chummy liked her brother's wives, each and every one of them, but she saw in them what her life might have been like and frankly, it was a place she would never wish to visit. She knew her mother gave far more consideration to her daughter's in law that her own child and the comparison always stung.

Her mother looked pointedly at her watch and almost simultaneously there was a knock on the door. She had been there half an hour, had refused tea and had only sat briefly before the tour.

"That will be the driver. I told him to collect me at twelve noon". It dawned on Chummy immediately that it had never been her mother's intention to spend little more than half an hour and the refusal of tea was deliberate.

"I really do not know what I am going to do with you Camilla. I really don't". Chummy saw her mother draw on her gloves; a sure sign she was on the verge of leaving and she walked past her toward the front door as Chummy had to almost run after her.

The door slammed unceremoniously and Chummy stood, hand on the door frame, breathing trying to collect her thoughts.

As she took up her uniform, ready to return to work, she took a shaky breath and bit back tears. She would not cry. Not again.


	9. Chapter 9

Between them it felt as though Cynthia and Trixie had scoured most of Poplar that afternoon.

"I am so hungry" Trixie moaned as the cycled side by side, stumbling upon each other accidently as they rode back to Nonnatus, sure the rumbling of her stomach was more than audible to her friend.

Cynthia smiled. The cup of tea and biscuits she had accepted from Mrs Potter's mother had assuaged any hunger of her own for a short while.

"Never mind. We are nearly back and there simply cannot be another woman in labour! I think we have delivered more than enough today!"

Trixie smiled and nodded. Last night and today had been ridiculous and she longed for the settee in the sitting room or even one of those kitchen chairs, a cup of tea and five minutes to simply breathe.

They rounded the corner into Byron Street when they heard an almightly crash and a multitude of bodies practically fall out of the pub door and propel themselves into their path. They braked quickly barely missing the three bodies as they thrashed and kicked.

As they negotiated around the fight they heard police whistles and from the distance saw two officers, neither of whom they recognised running towards them. Carefully removing themselves from the situation they exchanged a glance that could only say 'not again'. That public house was one to be avoided and they recalled the black eye that Peter had displayed for some weeks after having to break up a fight there not so long ago.

They only rode for maybe a further twenty or thirty yards when they saw a rather expensive car driving slowly in their direction, attracting too far much attention and to them both it looked lost. Trixie had been relatively sure she had seen it once already, the rear end turning into Violet Road so she decided to flag it down.

As she leant down the chauffeur smiled. "We are looking for the Dock Road, Nurse"

She glanced at the finely dressed lady in the back, buried under a feather hat, and received little more than a withering look in response.

"Go to the end of the street, take a left, keep going until you have to turn right. Keep going until you get to the end of that road, take a left and the Dock Road is the main road at the bottom".

She didn't bother addressing whoever it was in the back again. She was really not too keen on being looked as though she was invisible. As soon as the car pulled away, Cynthia, who had stepped back, gently rested her hand on Trixie's arm.

"You do realise who that was?" she asked.

Trixie thought for a moment. "Oh my!" she said, shocked, memories flooding back. "Lady Browne?" she squeaked.

Cynthia nodded. "Do you think she has been to Nonnatus?"

"Possibly" Trixie replied as they continued to cycle away from the scene of the brawl that had by and large now calmed. "Poor Chummy though if she has. Everyone is run off their feet, so we can't entertain".

As soon as they turned into Follett Street they saw Peter walking slowly away from them.

"Constable!" Cynthia shouted as the continued to cycle in his direction. He turned and smiled. "Are you heading to Nonnatus?" she asked.

"I hadn't planned to this time around, why?"

"Oh," Trixie replied. "We've just seen your mother in law". They both saw Peter's face freeze.

"She saw her earlier on, at the flat, but yes, I think I will pay you all a visit".

On finding her in the dining room, checking that they were alone, he slipped his arms around her waist and buried his mouth in her neck. She started in fright, having been so engrossed in updating her delivery records that she didn't notice his footsteps.

"Please don't do that to me" she said quietly the second she realised it was him. She was still nervous after the encounter with her mother.

"I'm sorry" he responded. He sounded so suddenly dejected, but kept his arms firmly around her. "What did I do wrong?"

She hesitated. "Nothing. Really, Peter, nothing" she replied.

"I'm sorry". With that, and feeling the safety of Peter's arms around her, the dam burst. He sat down, sharing the chair with her willing her tears to dry.

"I'm sorry", she repeated, apologising needlessly for reacting the way she did. "I just don't understand why you would want to pay me so much bally attention". Peter was confused for a moment.

It was brutally honest, but it was something that Chummy could finally say without feeling foolish. He would never make her feel foolish, she knew that, but, in her altered state of mind, she had started to lose her understanding of why he loved her. She knew he did, but for why? She had such a low opinion of herself that she struggled to understand what anybody would see in her. She didn't fit in, too tall, too big, not like the dainty pretty girls that seemed to attract all of the attention. He could have any of them, her mother was right about that.

Steel walls had surrounded her since she accepted the cold nights of the school dormitory as her fate and Peter had been the only one able to melt this iron coat.

Her mother's barbs had taken much more of a toll on her than she would care to admit.

"She's not been here as well?"

"No, just at home".

"What did she say?"

He had disliked her mother and disliked her even more as he learnt of today's visit. She had been a child who simply wanted to be loved and who had grown into an adult who did not understand she could be loved. He had thought, these last few weeks, that a corner had been turned, perhaps now not realising how easily it had been for her to slip back again.

Peter would admit to himself it was difficult to understand how someone could not be used to affection or for a wife not to know or realise she was desired by her husband. He had been lucky. Affectionate parents and scores of aunties who mothered him, he had grown up in a family that he knew loved him and as a first born son, they had very much wanted him.

He had waited for a wife; not courting girl after girl as most of his Police colleagues did. Whoever his wife had turned out to be, she would have to be special, not vain or vacuous, not self-obsessed or every other which word he could think of that did not describe his wife. He had thought he would never find her.

He cradled her cheek in his hand, brushing away the waterfall of tears. "I could list out why I love you, but I would be here until next week. You are everything I have ever wanted and will wish for in my wife"

She couldn't help the short wordless exclamation.

"I know you might not believe me at this moment, but when you nearly killed me that was it. I was gone. I knew I had to see you again. When you turned up at the station with that bottle of Whiskey, I thought all my Christmas' had come at once. Did you not notice the number of times I dropped into Nonnatus House? Why it was me that always volunteered to accompany you all if the fog was down?"

"I did, but it didn't register it was to see me".

"Every time I saw you, I wanted to ask you out. Everytime I turned up at Nonnatus the words wouldn't come out of my mouth. I thought you would say no".

"Why?" she asked, an element of sadness in her voice, now realising the extent to which he had clearly held a torch for her.

"Because of all things, your mother is right about me" .

"Don't say that"

"When you showed me those pictures of your parents house in India, their house here, I realised. My parents have never owned a house, never will. The jewellery your father gave you. I could never afford to give you necklaces and bracelets like that. I only ever see jewellery like that when its been stolen!"

"I don't want jewellery from you. I have the only piece of jewellery that matters – my wedding ring. All of the presents Pa gave me are put away because I don't want to see them".

They remind her too much of bad memories, but she was too scared to give them away if her Pa ever asked where they were. They reminded her of a time she hated, being wheeled out to be inspected as somebody's potential wife, decked up like a Christmas fairy .

"I wanted to find my own husband, if anyone would have me. Not have him chosen for me. I never thought I'd find him though, why anyone would want to even…."

She trailed off. "Mother never told me she loved me. It's strange being told I'm loved". She had lost count of the number of times they had exchanged such words, but she was now doubting herself so very much.

"Well if I have to tell you so every day I will. I want you to believe me. No matter what she says, I will always be here for you. I can't give you the world but I can try."

"My family might have had money but weren't - aren't - a family. Not properly. I see you with your Ma, when you talk about your brother; remember him. You're a family"

"You are part of that too. Part of _my_ family. You know my parents love you", he said, kissing her on the cheek.

"Yes, I know". She did know his parents had welcomed her with open arms and it had shocked her at first that his mother always greeted her with a kiss and his father with all his pet names for her already.

"I'm glad" he replied, checking again they were on their own, placing open mouthed kisses on her jaw and neck.

"You are convincing you know when you show me you love me". She felt him laugh and she saw a chink of light through the darkness. She knew she was making light of their previous conversation, but he must love her, surely? If he didn't he wouldn't kiss her like that it. It was logical, wasn't it? If he didn't he wouldn't touch her like that, he'd just take what he wanted and be done with her, force her if his need so desired, just like her mother said.

She closed her eyes, losing herself, feeling negativity washing itself away. "Promise me one thing?" she asked, hearing a mumble in response that was probably the affirmative.

"When our family comes, you won't send them away will you?". He drew immediately away from her.

"When our family comes, they will be here, with us, they will come home from school every day and be with us, they will never feel that they are not loved. All I want for my children is you as their mother".

She caught herself before she started to cry again, feeling his hand squeeze hers.

"Come on, come home".


	10. Chapter 10

It had been some desperate need to claim the house to her possession that had found her propelling him backwards into the bedroom as soon as they stepped over the threshold after he had collected her from Nonnatus in her deeply melancholy state. Still as good as dressed and from the haste that followed she breathed deeply as her body relaxed feeling his chest rise and fall against her.

"What happened there?" he asked, still slightly stunned.

"Well", she started, thinking for a moment. "One did wonder one day whether the time would come for you to be old enough to learn about Aves and Apis".

"English?" he asked, his brain not in any fit state to be wondering about Latin.

"Bird. Bee. Plural of" she had simply responded, as she leant up to kiss him oddly not in mood for the cuddles and affection that tended to follow in normal circumstances.

He was about to respond when the telephone rang and she felt the rumble of a growl of inconvenience. "Get off me" she said affectionately as he felt a push to his shoulder.

Straightening her everythings, she smiled as she ran to the phone.

"Poplar 349".

_"What ho!"_

"Bobs?"

_"The very person indeed! __Was wondering if you and that husband of yours would care for supper at the flat? Mother's gone off on her wanderings again so we can have good old chin wag without her breathing down our necks"._

Chummy was about to say she would have to ask Peter when he appeared by her side, wrapping his arms around her waist. She put her hand gently over the receiver.

"Supper tonight with Bobs and Ronnie?" she whispered, seeing him nod as she withdrew her hand from the receiver. They had no plans; barely ever had arrangements for supper except with each other as it only seemed to be the time when they had the opportunity to just sit and talk to each other without interruption.

"That would be perfectly spiffing!" she replied to her brother, smiling.

_"First class!"_ they both heard. _"Driver will draw up in an hour, if that sits well?"_

"It does".

_"Good-o! Be seeing you shortly... and no glad rags necessary!"_

She replaced the receiver and turned in his arms, him seeing one of the very first real smiles he had seen in weeks. It had plastered itself across her face involuntarily at the sound of her brother's voice and Peter was most pleased knowing how far her spirit had fallen since she knew of the visit.

"Race to the bathroom?" she enquired, playfully pushing his arms away.

"I'll let you win", he replied, strolling after her in no hurry. "You have more stubble to take care of than me". He had to exact revenge for the birds and bees comment, but the last thing he heard was her laughter ringing around the bathroom as the door clattered shut in his face.

Almost an hour and a half later and with a firm shake of Peter's hand and two rather joyful kisses on his sister's cheeks Bob Browne showed them into the sitting room.

"Vronny's just adjusting herself!" he announced, loud enough for his wife to hear and a most audible hint for her to hurry along.

"Tip top journey?" he asked as they followed him into the bright sitting room.

"Shouldn't one be asking you that?" Chummy replied, falling back into the ease that she felt around her eldest brother.

"Yes! Quite! Good spot!" Bob burst out. "One would rather take your trip than mine any day" he continued, clearing his throat.

"Sit! Sit!" he effused, gesturing at the rather overstuffed settee. Peter and Chummy, still firmly keeping hold of each other's hands, sat down and she could not help her eyes wandering over the rather opulent flat, perched on the edge of the seat as it suddenly seemed rather rude to sit back.

"One believes it is time to crack open a red do you not?" Bob continued, taking a bottle from the dining table on the other side of the room.

"One always thinks that a Burgundy slides down rather well?" he said, smiling as he turned away to fill four glasses. Chummy turned to her husband and gave him a reassuring glance, even though he looked far more comfortable that she did in these opulent surroundings. Maybe it was because he had no idea of the pretentions that tended to pervade in houses such as these and for now, he was perhaps the more innocent one.

They were passed two healthily filled glasses.

"Do you remember coming here when we not so little?" Bob asked, sitting back comfortably in an armchair, eyes wandering around the antiques and clearly expensive surroundings

"I remember", Chummy smiled, definitely recalling the times they would stay at this flat as children. "I remember when Ted fell down those horrific steps outside and lost his front teeth to the pavement".

"And Pop's face when Mother saw the blood down his crisp white shirt! One doesn't think she spoke to him for a week after that" her brother replied.

Chummy remembered standing at the top of the stairs, listening to the eventual rocket that her father received from her mother's venomous tongue and when he retreated from the sitting room, finding his four year old daughter with tears streaming down her face at the words falling from her mother's mouth and her Pa's silence. She remembered being swept up into his arms and the treat of a digestive biscuit that found its way to her after he had put his fingers to his lips and her small hand nestled in his as they crept into the kitchen.

Bob looked at this watch.

"Where is that girl? Vronny?!"

"On my way!" they all heard as she traversed the black and white parquet floor of the hallway. "One really does not know why one puts up with all this incessant complaining". Bob knew full well it was in jest and his smile told his visitors so.

Veronica arrived at the door in a blaze of peach chiffon.

"Oh!" Chummy exclaimed, seeing the state of her sister in law. "That is just the most perfectly spiffing thing, it really is!"

Veronica smiled, smoothing a hand over her stomach, with hugs and kisses abound.

"You do have a rather good secret keeper there" Veronica smiled, nodding at Peter who was standing slightly behind his wife.

"You knew?" Chummy replied, turning around to her husband. "Of course you knew!" she continued realising he had already confessed to Veronica's visit.

"And I won't be having any tickings off either!" Veronica replied, playfully wagging her finger at Chummy. "Come along quickly! Supper will be solidified if we dally any longer".

This had been a supper where for the first time in a long time, Chummy truly relaxed around her family, had been able to laugh and joke and unconsciously Peter noted she slipped into the words and phrases that she had lost during her time in Poplar. Everything was 'spiffing', 'superb' and 'spectacular' . He didn't mind. The one think that had always struck him was that she was_ interesting_, even back in the day when of those first tentative trips to the cinema, he had wanted to know what made her what she was; even if one of those days she may have just been a friend. Peter was quite satisfied to simply watch her.

Their supper consumed, he had returned from the bathroom where he found Bob standing on the balcony; his wife and sister in law in deep conversation over an album of photographs. He watched her for a moment from the doorway thinking for a second just entirely how proud of her he was.

"Don't' just stand there old chap", he heard as Bob addressed him from the balcony at the back of the flat. "Copious drams to be consumed here". A bottle of Whiskey was waved in front of him, just catching sight of the label, as a glass was pushed into his hand when he joined his brother in law. They stood, breathing in the night air, icy tentacles starting to bite as the winter darkness drew on.

"Meant to say before", Bob said, taking a sip, "all thanks for suggesting Vronny see Chummy's pals the other day. Put her mind at rest no end after that horrific journey".

"That bad?" Peter asked.

"Turned me to drink in thanks the moment we set foot on English soil!"

Peter smiled and too took a sip from the glass in his hand, finding it extremely easy to talk to his brother in law despite the entirely too large social gap that ought to have divided them. He saw Bob glance back into the room before lowering his voice.

"One thing Mother never told us about was how you and my sister met".

"She", he paused for a moment, wondering how to phrase it, deciding _directly_ was probably the best of course of action. "She ran me over".

"Ran you over?" Bob enunciated.

"Whilst she was learning to ride a bicycle".

"Typical of my sister" Bob guffawed as quietly as he could make it, trying not to catch the ladies attention. "In mother's fury we collectively decided not to ask".

"What did she really think about her training as a nurse?" Peter asked, still disconcerted at how little this family seemed to converse.

"Mother thought it was a passing flight of fancy - Chummy would get over it and realise the error of her ways and marry the next chap of Mother's choosing".

Peter nodded. He had never thought of the possibility of the East End being a novelty. It made him think now though.

"Do you two boys mind?" Veronica said, interrupting them from the other side of the room. "We are freezing our fingernails off here!"

"So desperately sorry, my darling" Bob responded as he and Peter stepped back into the dining room from the balcony, closing the doors gently behind them both as they joined their respective wives to share in the consideration of the packed Browne family album.


	11. Chapter 11

A while later Chummy sidled up to her brother as he blew cigar smoke into the night air.

"So you don't object?" she asked, rubbing her hands against her arms, feeling for the first time that evening just how cold the night had grown.

"To what? The irrefutable fact I will have the most vicious head on me tomorrow morning?" Bob enquired, taking another mouthful of Whiskey notwithstanding how frightful he knew he would feel after all this rich food and flowing alcohol, the latter rather than the former being the absolute beast. "If it is that, then the answer is a succinct 'yes'".

"No", she replied, pausing. "To Peter".

"Peter? Why on earth would I?" he replied, rather surprised she had asked. It was a question she had needed to be probed, even though she had seen with her own eyes how welcoming her brother had been.

"I know as your oldest and _wisest_ brother Mother will require me to take the high ground and all of that and object to the masses joining the family, but if she knew some of the things us boys got up to all those years ago your dalliance with a member of the local constabulary is the least of her worries".

Chummy smiled, slightly relieved. She loved her brothers to bits, as horrific as it could be for a child to be separated from them. There was that many a time that she felt so horribly jealous of them all tucked up in Winchester having each other for company and had always wanted their respect and approval. With Bob, her senior by 13 years, she always knew deep down he would but for the sake of her own heart, she had to enquire.

"He seems a fair enough kind of chap, my darling and how you conduct your life is your choice. My only concern is the hope that he never does anything to harm you but that's just the old big brother thing and would apply whether you married a prince or a pauper".

"He won't hurt me", she replied, before looking back into the room where he was in deep conversation with Veronica. "One doesn't think he is capable of it".

"Well I hope he doesn't. Whatever Mother and Pops think about it; they simply cannot stop you. I mean what can they do? Bundle you up in a trunk in send you by freight to some wild outpost?"

She nodded. "Mater can make me feel guilty for the rest of my life".

"She can, I will give you that, and I cannot stop her from it, but you must think of yourself. If this is the way you want your life….." he tailed off, shrugging his shoulders.

"It is". This was absolute assurance to her; the culmination of everything she had wanted from life – to find a purpose and a chap - and she had found both in the most unexpected place.

"You know us boys will love our little sister forever wherever she is and whatever she does, mother be damned".

"Bobs!" she exclaimed, having never heard that phrase fall from his mouth in connection with their mother before.

He kissed her on the cheek.

"Stop fretting about things that cannot be undone" he continued and she nodded in response. "You married someone you love. It was more than I did".

Chummy was worried and confused before he clarified himself.

"I love Vronny to the ends of the earth now, but you know how marriages are procured in this line of business. I had to learn to love her and quite frankly, I am damn glad it happened eventually otherwise we would have been two of most miserable souls imaginable. Just be happy – that is all I need as your brother".

"Come on", he replied, stubbing out his cigar in the crystal ashtray he had brought with him, "your husband and my wife are looking as though they are getting on far too well!"

At almost midnight, Peter drew the bedcovers up to his neck. With a full stomach and as not so inebriated as his brother in law had been, tiredness infiltrated his bones. He stretched, stretched and stretched, taking up her side of the bed in her absence, feeling the long day tumbling out of his muscles. The minty taste from toothpaste and Whiskey did not sit well and his chest was starting to feel the early beginnings of indigestion at the sumptuous menu they had both consumed that night.

His eyelids were drooping when she wandered in, to him a perfect vision in a pale green nightdress floating across the floor as she abandoned her glasses on the bedside table. Without a word, she pulled back the covers and flopped into bed, his arms immediately going around her. With an audible sigh he felt her stretch her arm across his middle and hug him tight.

"I do like your brother" he said, fingertips exploring the elasticated sleeve of her nightdress.

"Bobs was never going to be a problem" she mused, loosening her neck, burrowing as close to him as she could possible go.

"Ronnie too" he continued.

"Ronnie?" she asked in mock surprise. "Since when did you start calling her 'Ronnie'?"

"She asked me to" he replied innocently, recalling her sister in law's absolute insistence that he was now an enormous part of the Browne family and he was to call her by her nickname from now on in and if he did not she would start repeatedly calling him 'Constable'. He had laughed it away and acquiesed, Veronica not realising that that was exactly how his mother in law referred to him as she could not bear to repeat his name.

"I am glad" she breathed, eyes closing. For a moment the air was silent, as they relaxed in the warmth of each other's company.

"Camilla, can I ask you something?" he said suddenly.

"Of course" she replied.

"Is it a novelty?"

"What is?" she replied, not quite knowing where that question was leading.

"The East End. Is it a novelty?" Bob's comment had stuck in his mind. He remembered, when he returned home from War, the ladies of a certain class who would organise charitable tea parties for wounded soldiers and bring libraries of books and puzzles to amuse the 'lesser folks'. Those times he had been in Hospital and then convalescing waiting desperately for the morphine to take effect to render him unconscious rather than be subjected to another rather grandly hatted lady sympathising for his plight; thinking reading stories from The Times would be a comfort from the pain that seared through his body. Those ladies were of his wife's class and there had been many a time where he had seen the patronising looks and the air of social gain that would come about for the 'hardship' of an afternoon or two in the East End delivering food parcels and organising fetes.

"A novelty?" she replied, perhaps not taking his question as seriously as she ought to have done. "Not at all".

"Is it me then?" he asked.

She sat up, straight out of his arms, looking at him aghast, seeing his furrowed brow and that grave look he would occasionally wear when there was something particularly worrying him. If he could have put his hands in his pockets he would have completed the picture.

"No" she said firmly, knowing there were those occasional moments when his confidence could plummet as much as hers. "This life is what I want. Peter, if it was so much of a novelty, do you think I would have married you? Do something so serious in the sight of God to promise to love you for the rest of our lives if it was a whim?"

She brushed her hand across his from her lofty position. "If that was the case, one would have just had one's wicked way with you and that would be that".

He smiled briefly, but understood how seriously they both had taken their wedding vows.

"Peter, it would break my heart to have to leave here". She paused, feeling so very near to the edge of tears. "If you ever left me…."

"I am going nowhere", he replied, sitting up too, ignoring the building tightness in his chest.

"If you ever left me", she continued. "Well, that would be it. One doesn't think one could go from day to day" she concluded, voice almost a whisper.

She felt his palm slide up her cheek. "Do not ever think that Camilla. I hear every word you are saying. Do you understand why I needed to ask?" he questioned, seeing her nod although not understanding the origins of the question entirely.

"Good". He leant across, pulling towards him to kiss her. They both heard her stomach growl in anger, making her feel quite queasy.

"Too much rich food" she whispered, placing a hand on her chest. "One is not used to it any more".

"I did like that pudding" he replied, pulling her back down into bed. "What was it?"

"Eton Mess" she answered. "The strawberries were spiked with Pimm's, although it does not bear thinking about where they got strawberries at this time of year".

"I don't think I could go an evening like that again for a while yet. I don't think my stomach can take it".

"Mine neither" she replied, the unsettled nature of her insides not looking as though they would settle any time soon.

"I know you say I am a bottomless pit, Camilla".

"You are a bottomless pit" she replied, deadpan.

"But that's bread and butter, roast dinners and treacle sponge, not all that lot", he continued, but even the thought of the overtly sweet nature of a treacle sponge could not even tempt him this evening.

"One might invite them for supper here. Does one dare to be so bold as to subject them to my cooking?" she asked. It was a rhetorical question and he did not answer with an affirmative or a negative.

"You are getting better" he replied, pausing. "Perhaps in twenty years' time I will not approach one of your roast dinners with foreboding".

"Foreb…..?" she stuttered out, just about having the strength to give him a quick affectionate push in consternation.

"No, that's unacceptable. I withdraw my statement" he said, seeing her eyes closing before a dramatic pause.

"_Maybe ten years_".


	12. Chapter 12

"Right!" Sister Evangelina announced to the treatment room as a whole. "Who do we have today?!"

In front of her, Trixie, Cynthia, Sister Bernadette and Chummy were all collectively checking their bags ready for the new day.

"Do we have Nurse Lee or has she taken to wandering?" the Sister continued loudly as she inspected the bundle of medical records and lists she was holding.

"She is in the laundry room Sister", Cynthia replied. "Collecting those new sheets to take to clinic".

Almost on queue Jenny arrived, bundles in her arms, hesitating by the door at the form of Sister Evangelina obstructing her path to the table and her colleagues.

Sister Evangelina wheeled around, seeing a nod from Sister Bernadette at the missing nurse's presence.

"Well come along Nurse. Do not stand there like a lemon!"

Jenny slipped into the room without a word, gently placing the sheets down in the nominal area that was not covered by bags.

"Right!" Sister Evangelina repeated. "Nurses Miller and Franklin, you are to take the rounds on Canada Buildings and then Mrs Black on Pennyfields. Both of you are to go should that husband of hers be there. Post natal examination for mother and baby and young Elaine needs the dressing on her arm changing so you can attend to that at the same time. Decide between yourselves who dresses but do not move from each other's sides if he is there! I'd suggest you attend her after the pubs have opened. Nurse Lee and Sister Bernadette", she continued in full flow.

"The Thomas' twins on Rich Street, Mrs Kennedy and Mrs Sugden on Morant Street and whilst you are down there I understand Mrs Sugden's mother in law is developing signs of Diabetes. I would suggest you consider speaking to her. Then you are to attend to the Parish Hall to set up this afternoon's clinic and stay there, and finally Nurse Noakes, Nelson Walk all to yourself. Mrs Kay, Mrs Ball, Mrs Harrison, Mrs Fletcher and Mrs Nash and then the Clinic with Sister Bernadette and Nurse Lee this afternoon. Sister Julienne also wishes to speak to you too at some point today. Something connected to your sister in law".

Each nurse in that room was relatively sure that Sister Evangelina had not taken a breathe during the length of the tirade of instructions.

"Where is Sister Julienne?" Cynthia asked, noting that the Sister seemed to have been absent from Nonnatus for some hours now.

"Unexpected premature delivery during the night. I believe she ought to be returning from St Thomas' shortly".

Each girl nodded at their instructions. Chummy quite liked it when Nelson Walk was assigned to her. It meant she could slip into Reeves Road if she had a moment to see her in laws and knew the kettle would be permanently on the boil.

A snake of bicycles made its way along Lodore Street as they all separated on the Dock Road to their destinations.

Cynthia and Trixie arrived at Canada Buildings and carefully leaning their bicycles against the wall, they smiled at each other in a most supportive manner, knowing full well that they had their work cut out this morning. The list of patients in Cynthia's hands was quite immense.

"Shall we start with the top floor and work down?" Cynthia asked.

"Why not?" Trixie replied. "And then the next time we are assigned this awful place, we can start at the bottom and work up!"

Cynthia laughed at the sarcastic nature of her comment although she agreed with it entirely. Canada Buildings was the hardest slog of the lot and whilst they would happily share the load it always seemed as though Canada Buildings came around far too frequently.

"Shall we finish with the Morris twins?" Trixie asked, knowing that two pairs of hands would be most welcome in that household with the pair of rambunctious young boys Robert and Richard Morris were becoming.

Cynthia agreed and they trawled up the decrepit staircase.

Margaret Dwyer had just given birth to her sixth child and as Trixie gently separated her son from his blankets, Margaret sat back, knowing and trusting the Nonnatus' midwives with her very life.

"Is he feeding well?"

"Certainly is Nurse" she replied. "Keeps me up all hours!"

"Good" Trixie replied, suddenly remembering a conversation they had had when she had delivered young Thomas almost six weeks earlier. "Did you speak to the Council about moving?"

"Frank's 'ad words with them and they are finally movin' us to those new 'ouses in Empson Street in three weeks. Be glad to get out of this 'ole".

Trixie nodded. She knew the Dwyer family of old and knew the smarter houses at the bottom end of Empson Street would be far better for the family, which was bursting out of these two small rooms, wallpaper peeling . Margaret Dwyer was still only 29 years of age and there were numerous years of child bearing still to come and she could not see the family stopping at six.

"Have you seen where you are moving to?" Trixie asked, knowing the street as Peter had lived in what was left of the Victorian terraces before he married.

"Yes. It's lovely 'n all" she replied. "I'd never dreamt of so much space. The girls can have a bedroom and so can the boys and we're havin' a garden. Frank can grow us some veg and I can plant some flowers!

"Saw a great big black car up there when we went other day driving slower than you like. Didn't think our new neighbours would be that grand" she continued, joking as Trixie tested her son's hips as he wiggled on the bed, relieved the slight click she had noticed last time had disappeared.

"Black car?" Trixie asked.

"Frank said it was a.." she paused. "Gawd, me memory's gone since the babbas".

"A Rolls Royce?" Trixie asked, still gently examining Thomas Dwyer who was drifting off to sleep again.

"A Roller he said" Margaret responded, nodded. "Miserable lookin' cow in the back as well".

Trixie stopped herself laughing as it would be entirely disrespectful, wondering if it was the car she and Cynthia had seen themselves only a few days before.

"You 'ave to wonder what someone like that would want with this dump" Margaret continued, seeing the midwife nod, being unable to do anything but agree. It struck her immediately that it could only have been Lady Browne. Nonnatus House had its share of wealthy benefactors but when the visited they took taxis rather than rode around the narrow, cobbled streets in a Rolls Royce.

Trixie wondered if Chummy knew her mother had been driving around the East End and she decided to ask at the first available opportunity.

The subject of her thoughts, Chummy, on the other hand had completed her visit to Nelson Walk in double-quick time and as she stood outside the Harrison household she wondered if she would have time run to her in laws after all before she had to set off for clinic.

"Wotcha Petal!" came a voice from behind her as she clipped the buckles on her pack. There was only one person the world that called her 'Petal' and that was her father in law. She turned to find him standing beside her with perfect timing.

"What ho Bill" she replied seeing him smile at her.

"Time for a cuppa? His mother's bin cookin'. I escaped the 'ouse for a walk to stop eatin' the lot before tea time!"

Chummy glanced quickly at her watch, deciding finally that she had more than enough time to get from his parents' house in time for her duties in clinic that afternoon.

"Marvellous! I would love to" she replied, although altogether too easy to compare his parents and hers, she had been taken on face value by them and was so pleased by it. There had been many a time she had wondered what it would have been like to walk home from school and see your parents, to run and play 'tick' in the street and above all, to run straight into your mother's arms being whisked up rather than hesitating for fear of being pushed away.

As she wheeled her bicycle by his side they passed the time of day on the short walk around the corner, Chummy deciding that enough was enough for at least today and she would look forward to her tea, their company whatever her mother in law had baked.


	13. Chapter 13

"Mmmmm", Cynthia mumbled, mouth full of biscuit. "Can I marry Peter when you are finished with him to get a mother in law that bakes like this?"

Chummy laughed, having brought a tin full of freshly baked biscuits back with her after her tea with her in laws. After a busy day, they, and a cup of tea were most welcome for all parties who had arrived around the kitchen table after the day's duties had been completed.

"He may be a bit worn out by the time Chummy's finished with him!" Trixie announced loudly, not seeing Sister Bernadette behind her, attracted by the kerfuffle of noise in the kitchen. Chummy had turned a rather interesting shade of scarlet at the implication which the Sister had noticed.

"Nurse Franklin!" the Sister scolded, taking a biscuit herself. "Now, now". Trixie looked suitably admonished as she sat down, seeing the Sister take a bite from the provision in her hand.

"Ooh my!" Sister Bernadette said. "Do you know; I might have to follow Nurse Miller in asking that question myself!"

Chummy's eyes widened as the entire kitchen dissolved into laughter as the Sister turned away into the sitting room, letting her comment hang in the air.

"One must tell one's husband he has nearly turned a nun!" she whispered to the giggles of her friends. As Chummy poured them all tea an uneasy silence settled after the jollity that had been before. Glancing between themselves Cynthia and Trixie had a question to ask and now seemed to be as good a time as any.

On their ride back from Canada Buildings they had discussed it at length and considered every minute detail of the consequences of their confession to their friend and decided, for the sake of honesty, that they should reveal all.

"Chummy? Can we speak to you?" For Trixie her voice had that air of seriousness that for her was somewhat odd and it immediately caught her friend's attention.

"Of course" Chummy replied, taking a sip of tea as it steamed in her hand.

"Cynthia and I, the other day, we saw your Mother on Byron Street".

"Mater?" The waver in her voice was audible.

"Yes, and Margaret Dwyer said she saw a Rolls Royce on Empson Street and we think it was probably the same one. You know, because Peter lived there".

A cold shiver ran through Chummy's bones. What was her mother doing on Empson Street? Could it be anything other than spying?

"Did she come here?" Cynthia asked, knowing the answer was probably 'no' as otherwise Sister Julienne might just have mentioned that the place needed to be spick and span beforehand.

"No" Chummy confirmed, starting to panic at the prospect of her mother scouring the East End, wondering what on earth she was doing; whether she had been near Nonnatus or even near the flat again. She had clearly been where Peter used to live and Chummy worried for the motive behind it.

"We thought," Trixie said, glancing to Cynthia for reassurance, "that you ought to know. We thought the driver might just have been lost, but she was so far off the main road, we just, well, wondered if she was, well,_ looking _for some reason". What they did not tell her was that they had speculated about the reason and the conclusions that they drew were nothing but negative.

"Botheration!" Chummy exclaimed, the other nurses quite use to her cursing, even though most of time it was quite polite. "Did she say anything to you?"

"No", Trixie responded. "I only realised it was her after Cynthia reminded me".

Chummy would plainly admit that she did not know what to think and she was on the verge of being sent into a tailspin, wondering why her mother held her with so much disrespect that she had to treat her like a fugitive; and her husband for that.

Behind them the telephone rang and expecting another mother in labour, Cynthia slipped away to answer it.

"We didn't know whether to tell you" Trixie said. "But we thought it best you know". Trixie could see that it was clear that her friend was barely concentrating on the words that were being said.

"No, no" Chummy replied quickly "It's best one knew". It was the only thing that she could come up with in response, her mind not being to able to find any higher function as it whirled and that slight clammyhandedness that would come about when panic started to set in. She noticed Cynthia return to the kitchen.

"Your mother" she said.

Chummy automatically got up to go to the telephone.

"No, Chummy", Cynthia carried on, placing a hand gently on her arm. "She left a message. I did ask if she wanted to speak to you but she said there was no need. She would like to meet you at the flat tonight".

"Could she not even speak to me directly?" Chummy asked wearily to nobody in particular.

"Evidently not" Cynthia replied sadly as she sat back down again, catching Trixie's eye; both wondering what they could say to make things better.

After deciding she ought to face her mother, Chummy boarded the bus from Poplar to Knightsbridge. Peter would be asleep ahead of his shift and in no uncertain terms, he would have insisted he came with her if she told him so she decided not to this time. Knowing that in all truthfulness that his presence may aggravate what was a precious situation, she decided that she would make the journey on her own.

From the cold of the street, the sudden heat in the flat was almost overwhelming as she sat, perched again, on the same settee that she had been only a night or two ago, fighting lightheadedness that had seemed to follow her around these past few weeks. This time she did not have her husband's hands to grip and the comfort of knowing it was her brother who was facing her.

"Where's Bob?" she asked half expecting her mother to have her eldest son by her side as an ally but curious to find he was nowhere to be seen.

"He has taken Veronica to the theatre" her mother replied as though Chummy ought to have known such an obvious response already.

Chummy nodded as her mother took up the seat that Bob had occupied the other night, perched like her daughter, knees tight and straight backed.

"One gathers he invited you here for supper".

"Yes" Chummy replied seeing the stiff nod of her mother's head, wondering if her brother had received a dressing down for inviting her.

"Camilla, I have been thinking long and hard about this situation that presents itself".

"Why?" Chummy asked, the question finding itself out of her mouth before she could think of a more suitable response.

"Despite the fact that one doubts you will not believe me and although nothing will sway me from how highly inappropriate it is of you behaving in this manner, I am your mother".

_And?_

"Despite the fact you are gallivanting around with an individual who is not worthy of your attention".

_Gallivanting around? Hardly._

"I am your mother and I wish to try to understand", Lady Browne concluded.

"Is that why you were in Empson Street?" Chummy asked, suddenly and actually wondering how her mother knew he lived there. She had not realised until now that she had never mentioned where he lived before they married.

"I appreciate that I have limited knowledge of the East End of London and most if it if I may say so is quite unsavoury. I wanted to see how he was brought up".

_How does looking at his lodgings tell you how he was brought up?_

"_You_ are not from here yet you seem to have made the conscious decision to stay here so I was curious to see what this area could make of you. I have seen it now and remain of the view you do not belong here".

Chummy nearly fell of the settee. Belonging was something she had craved all her life and of all places in the world, she had finally found it here.

"I belong in Poplar", she said quietly, thinking it pointless to continue to qualify herself.

"And him?"

"Peter is good to me Mater".

She heard her mother scoff. "Good to you?" she spat. "Bunches of flowers that look as though they were found on a street corner? Is that being good to you? Is that_ good enough_ for you?"

Chummy had to think for a second. Flowers? Oh yes, she thought. The flowers that had been on her dining table for a good few days already when her mother visited. She knew their next destination was the bin but could not bear to throw them away quite yet. Her reason had been clear. They were 'Thursday flowers'. Usually every Friday he would arrive home, on payday, with flowers from the stall outside the Police Station, except that Friday before he had a day off so they became Thursday flowers for that week alone. She had cursed him for being so daft and then refused to throw them away until they had wilted all over the tablecloth and he had suggested it might be an idea that they finally met their end.

"You have little experience of men Camilla" her Mother continued, breaking her daughter out of the rather pleasant image of being presented with the flowers as she was on her knees, red faced with effort and with soaking wet hands from scrubbing the kitchen floor.

"You have no concept whether he is 'good' to you or not! He is still not worthy of your attention, Camilla. His like should not even think of talking to you and you ought to have dismissed him out of hand when he even tried to! I have no idea why you have even dragged yourself down to that level. It beggars belief it really does", she continued barely pausing for breath. "When your father arrives from Ireland, I expect…"

"Pa is coming here?" Chummy replied, not being able to withdraw the notion of surprise from her voice.

"Yes. He has some business to attend to and he will be here a week next Wednesday". She saw her daughter nod at the news.

"Camilla, he and I have spoken at some length and when your father arrives, I felt it was a rather good idea that he saw the debacle that has unfolded. I will expect you for supper one night, on your own".

Chummy knew her Mother's ultimatums and knew she had little choice but to accept, endure and pray.


	14. Chapter 14

"Peter!" Chummy exclaimed in surprise, not expecting the house to be inhabited, finding her husband still at home.

"Hello" he replied, standing in the hallway emerging from the living room and taking up a spot leaning on the door frame. The front door going had disturbed him from the unexpected opportunity for an hour or two of study. "How did it go?" he asked as he watched her take off her coat.

"How did what go?" she asked, not thinking for a second it was connected to her recent trip to Knightsbridge.

"Meeting your mother" he said.

"How did you know about that?" Chummy replied, voice flickering in surprise suddenly not able to control her own vocal chords as she walked past him into the living room.

"I telephoned Nonnatus to let you know my shift had been changed and Sister Julienne told me where you had gone". He paused, not remotely hurt that she had not told him of her trip to Knightsbridge, just desperately worried about what may or may not have occurred there.

"I do wish you would have told me Camilla". He had turned in the doorway to let her pass.

"It was all rather of a shock to me" she continued sitting down, beginning to unlace her shoes, feeling the cushion dip and the warmth of his presence as he sat beside her. She felt a comforting hand rest gently on the base of her spine and its presence allowed her to concentrate, to have a focus as she felt his palm swirl over her cardigan soothing the jitter that had settled in her chest.

"Still, Camilla. I do wish you had told me" he continued, wondering whether it was fright or flight that had taken her up there without a word to anyone but Sister Julienne. "What did she want?"

"The usual" she replied. Unfortunately he knew what that was and somehow neither felt as though it needed to be elaborated upon.

"And that Pa is coming to London" she continued, sitting up straight as she turned to him.

"Really?" he responded, just that little bit taken aback. "So I might meet my father in law at last?"

"Aren't you worried?" she questioned, slipping into the protection of his arms.

"No, not in the least" he continued, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I would have hoped I might have met him before I married his daughter. Asked his permission".

"Asked him for permission?" She felt she had managed quite well to keep the incredulity out of her voice.

"Yes. I would have liked to".

"He would have said no" she replied, thinking that his usual playful madness had somehow turned sinister at the thought of facing her father to ask for his only daughter's hand in marriage; knowing that in all likelyhood her father's view would mirror that of her mother, albeit in not quite such a vociferous manner.

"I would have told him that his daughter is the most precious gift a man could ask for. As I said before, I would have gone down on my knees and begged you if I had to". It had been the truth as he simply could not explain the desperate need he had to have her as part of his life; knowing and wondering if it was some kind of insanity or an open, honest declaration of the strength of feeling he had for her.

Chummy recalled that moment on the steps of Nonnatus with nothing but guilt, seeing hurt embed itself in his eyes. Her emotions had been on edge since Trixie and Cynthia's declaration and that was the straw that broke the camel's back and her eyes filled.

"I'm sorry. One just cannot stop crying these days". She swiped tears away. "When I said 'no' to you I was just terrified".

"Of me?" he replied, quite curious as he had always maintained his patience around her and never tried to persuade or enforce her into uncomfortable situations. There was plenty of time.

"In a way" she confessed. "It what you represented – support and love. One had to understand why you loved me before I could truly accept it".

"I am not sure I can explain it, but it's all you need to know".

She nodded her head.

"You understand why now?"

"Yes" she replied, confident now of the fact that nothing on earth would ever divide them; determination so that that would include her family.

"Good" he replied, seeing her brush away the tears that had cascaded down her cheeks.

"I was going to do that" he whispered, feeling her body jolt with a short laugh.

"Sorry", she replied quickly.

"And next time you mother wants to meet you, tell me" he continued, squeezing her shoulder as she nodded in response.

"Your brother telephoned again before too" Peter continued. "Do you mind if he comes here on Friday?"

"I'm on afternoon clinic and then on call until Midnight on Friday" she replied, thinking one or both might expect a meal on the table. "I might be able to make you something to eat before I leave but you will have to leave it in the oven to keep warm".

"I don't think food is going to feature very high up the menu" Peter continued, replaying in his head the conversation he had with Bob where the words 'alcohol' and 'whilst the women are away' featured extremely heavily in his plans.

"Ah" she responded, deciding she did not want to know.

"Peter?"

"Hmm?"

"Have your parents always lived at Reeves Road?" She had to ask him, if only to satisfy her own suspicions regarding her mother's activities around Poplar. She hoped beyond all will that she had been wrong in forming the conclusion to herself that her mother's motives were far more insipid than simply taking a tour of the East End of London to see where her offspring was living.

"No. We moved there when I was about 9 or 10, give or take" he ended with a shrug, relatively sure he had not been in Senior School before the move.

"Where did they live before then?"

"Erm…" he replied, thinking back. "Oh! Talwin Street after my brother was born as Knapp Road was too small and Byron Street before that. Dad always joked that he and Mum only had me so they could move out of Byron Street. He said it was a too damp for a baby but it was the best they could afford when they got married". He smiled at the gentle teasing his parents would give him as an adult as to the reasons for his origins. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason" she said, far too speedily for his liking. "We were just talking about where we all lived as children and I was curious".

She felt him nod, hoping the subject was closed.

"Camilla". It was not a question. "I do know she has been" he paused, searching for the correct expression, "trying to find out about me". He had hoped she may never have to know, that she could be spared learning of her mother's duplicity, but it was already clear to him that her question about Reeves Road had a motive behind it.

"How?" she asked sitting up, somehow relieved he already knew and that her mother's deceptions were not solely a fictious conclusion from an overactive imagination.

"I'm a Police Officer, Camilla. You end up knowing all kinds of people". 'Most of them are unsavoury' he thought but from time to time it was almost advantageous to know some of the more interesting characters.

"The girls said they saw her in Byron Street and one of our mothers saw her in Empson Street. I'm sorry".

"What are you sorry for? You didn't tell her to do it".

"I know, but" she paused, struggling. "She's my mother but I wish I could make her understand. I'd like her to understand that I have what makes me content. She did say she wanted to see where I lived but, not to snoop for ammunition". There, she had said it. Those thoughts and feelings that her mother might just be trying her very best to force her daughter's hand.

"There is nothing about me that you don't know already so there will be no bombs dropped".

"I know" she replied, quietly.

"I'm being serious" he continued, the gravity in his voice. "There is nothing, absolutely nothing, which she can find out about me that you don't know". He was desperate to reassure her that all of a sudden there would not be a skeleton in the closet that her mother could berate her with. He was not a game player, had always been straight down the line and had little patience for people who tried to manipulate situations to their own gain, particularly those who would do it with their own flesh and blood. She had all his secrets.

"Really?" she asked, almost trying to test the waters.

"Absolutely. Born in Poplar, brought up in Bow, went to St Joseph's and then Cairn Street, left school, got engaged to Jean, went to war, got injured, repatriated, ditched by Jean, had jobs all over the place that I couldn't settle at, met Enid, ditched Enid, joined the Police, odd dates here there and everywhere that never went anywhere and then met the love of my life".

"Who was she then?" Chummy asked innocently, knowing full well what the answer was.

"Camilla…"

"Sorry, one couldn't resist!" she smiled at him. "Seriously, thouugh what do we do about Mater? I am not sure whether one can trust her".

His answer was simple.

"Bide our time, Camilla. Let's just wait and see".


	15. Chapter 15

Sister Julienne ran her hand along the table, straightening a wayward corner of the white lace tablecloth that Mrs B had taken so much effort in ironing that morning. The table did look rather spectacular and Sister Julienne noted to herself that she must thank Mrs B again for the extensive spread that was there before them.

Nonnatus adored its visitors and there was always something special about a day when each and every one of its inhabitants would welcome a new face to its quarters. The Sister had spoken to Nurse Noakes about her sister in law's visit and had conversed with the lady herself on the telephone as Veronica Browne's voice bubbled its way down the line as they made their final arrangements for a Tuesday tea.

The only experience Nonnatus had had of Chummy's family had been the uncomfortable encounter with Lady Browne but as Sister Julienne engaged with Veronica in numerous telephone calls, the hesitance had been firmly washed away with the sheer openness this voice had displayed.

Precisely on 4 o'clock the doorbell rang and Cynthia ran to the door.

"Nurse Miller, one presumes?" Bob said as his wife stood by his side.

"Yes" Cynthia spluttered out, this stranger before her suddenly knowing who she was.

"Forgive him" Veronica interjected. "Chummy has told us so much about you all that he was trying to be a fool and see if he could guess who was who!"

"Ignore him too!" Veronica continued pushing in the chest so she could step over the threshold as Cynthia stood to one side, immediately smiling.

The three made their way to the sitting room, Veronica examining each tiny detail of the bricks and mortar around her, the place that her sister in law had described coming alive from every inch. Cynthia left them for a moment to collect Sister Julienne who had been waiting in her office attending to the last few rotas for the month.

Between them Bob and Veronica sat on the settee and took in the tired furniture and slightly worn carpet.

"Do you know one never really understood why my sister wanted to come here" Bob said suddenly whispering for fear of company elsewhere. There was not a word of nastiness in his comment, but it was a simple observation. "Being here now though, as much as mother rattles on, I can see why she wants to stay. There is a touch of…" he struggled for the word.

"Family?" Veronica whispered in response before Sister Julienne and Cynthia reappeared, having already asked Chummy some days before how she should address her titled brother.

"Mr & Mrs Browne?" Sister Julienne asked stretching out a hand to receive a firm shake in response.

"Please call us Bob and Veronica" he said. "None of this formal silliness for us".

Sister Julienne smiled. Nurse Noakes had been entirely correct.

"I have to say we were only expecting the one visitor" Sister Julienne observed.

"Oh!" Veronica said, waving her hand in the direction of her husband. "He is tagging along for the journey".

"Would you like to stay? We do have enough room at the table" the Sister continued, extending the warmth of Nonnatus to another person who would be, she felt, most welcome.

"No, no, Sister I will not impose. A rather delicious tea it looks though" he commented, seeing Trixie carry a rather interesting looking sponge cake across the kitchen, "but I am called away as I have a meeting to attend in Victoria".

"Should we telephone you a taxi?" Sister Julienne asked

"No, no Sister no need. I rather fancy the train. Its been aeons and it would be most satisfying if someone could direct me to the train station?"

"I am sure Nurse Miller can attend to that".

To their side Cynthia nodded and stepped to one side, seeing Bob kiss his wife on the cheek in goodbye.

"Have a good evening ladies". He nodded politely at all parties and as Cynthia, mentally thinking through the walk to the station, trotted after him to the door.

Sister Julienne turned her attention to Veronica and guided her to the dining room, seeing Trixie, together with Sister Bernadette fine tuning the fare before them.

"Are we still missing Nurses' Lee and Noakes?" she asked to nobody in particular.

"Yes Sister" Trixie replied. "Jenny was with Mrs Porter but she pops them out like no tomorrow, so she ought to be back soon".

"And I sent Nurse Noakes to Chapel Court for Jane Berry's post natal check so unless she is away with the fairies as she usually is, she should be with us too soon" Sister Evangelina announced, arriving behind them, not being able to refrain even with the company of a member of Chummy's family present.

Just as Sister Julienne was about to reply, she heard the front door clatter shut, soon to be followed by Jenny walking down the corridor.

"Nurse Lee!"

When Jenny had briefly reported the successful birth of Yvonne Porter and hurriedly changed from her uniform, she returned to the table, finding the room bursting with conversation. She slipped quietly into her seat, a cup of tea waiting for her and listened intently to the conversation that flowed, each person at that table contributing in one almighty, friendly, ebullient discussion although she did note that Chummy was still missing.

"Chummy's letters and stories have always fascinated me" Veronica told the table. "I was so very much looking forward to meeting you all".

"Well it is a pleasure to have you here" Sister Julienne replied. She had been worried and apprehensive about the visit but every single fear of sitting awkwardly, struggling for conversation had been assuaged.

"So when is the baby due?" Cynthia asked, having heard from Trixie of her earlier encounter in her visit with the worried mother.

"Around the third week of February", Veronica replied. "But then again, all my girls were early, so .. Bob is hoping for another girl. One thinks its growing up in a household of boys".

"So are you feeling better now?" Sister Bernadette asked, knowing of her secretive visit to the clinic and her discomfort following an exhausting trip.

"Oh yes!" Veronica replied. "So very much better. A few good nights sleep in a comfortable bed have done wonders for the old spirits! I have really felt so awful but believe I am starting to see the light of day!" "

Sister Bernadette smiled. It was always wonderful to see a once worried mother with her fears dampened, looking forward again to the birth of their child.

"Nurse Noakes said you were spending Christmas in Scotland?" Sister Julienne continued.

"Yes. Its been such an age since I spent a holiday with the parents. I do wish we could have brought the girls but they are not travellers at all. Rosie particularly and Lissy is just far too young. Bob and I did not think it fair".

"I first travelled to Argentina when I was 4" Sister Monica Joan said suddenly. "It was the first voyage of the Leopold Poret from Cardiff to Buenos Aires. Mother fell so violently ill but I so very much adored running along the deck with the sea whipping against the hull".

"Did you travel a lot when you were child Sister?" Veronica asked, not seeing the 'please don't' look that passed over the faces of the majority of the people at the table.

"Such places!" the Sister continued, almost childish excitement clear from her face. "South America, South Africa, China! Walking the Great Wall with Father was the most exhilarating. Tell me, my dear, have you ever been to Asia?"

What had transpired to be fears that Sister Monica Joan may have wandered into tangents, it had evolved into a rather spirited recollection of memories and, even though Veronica knew of Sister Monica Joan's sometimes wayward methods, tea had been a most interesting experience for all at the table as they learnt of the people and places that their well travelled companions recalled. Each party at the table left that evening with smiles on their faces and aching cheeks from laughter.

Almost half an hour after Veronica had been collected by their driver, the Nurses were tidying the kitchen when they heard feet rush in.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Chummy announced as she almost ran towards them.

"What happened to you?" Trixie said, see their rather bedraggled friend.

"Oh the post natal visit went like clockwork! Just as I was leaving the Dobson grandmother next door collapsed. Did I miss Ronnie?"

"Yes, she left quite a while ago", Jenny replied. "She said she would telephone tomorrow for you though. How is Mrs Dobson?"

"She was taken to St Thomas'. I have every suspicion she has had a stroke", Chummy replied, running the tap for the drink of water she had been gasping for for hours.

"Oh!" Cynthia replied. "That is such a shame. I delivered baby James last week and she was so excited, even though he was number ten!"

"I saw Dr Clarke and he is going to telephone in the morning to tell us more", Chummy continued feeling the welcome liquid slide its way down her throat. Chummy had been quite glad to hear the booming Yorkshire accent of Dr Clarke as she stood with the Dobson family as they paced. He had always selected her to assist him when she had been at St Thomas' and he had always been a kind word of guidance and a friendly face when she most needed it. She had found his equivalent in Poplar in the shape of Dr Turner and the respect she had for both men was quite immense.

Behind them, the doorbell rang in a rather sprightly manner. As Chummy still had her coat on and there had been snow in the air, she turned back to answer it.

Opening the door she found her brother.

"What-ho old girl! Don't suppose perchance my wife is still here?"

"Sorry Bobs. She left a while ago apparently".

"Never mind, never mind!" he continued. "So are you letting us in otherwise Jack Frost will be biting more than our fingertips and toes off!"

"Us?" She replied, wondering who he had with him, seeing nobody in the doorway.

"Brought an extra bit of company. Picked up a parcel at Victoria Station" he said, nodding quickly to his side as from his left another figure emerged from closing daylight.

"Hello stranger!"

"Ted?!"

"In the flesh and at your service", her other brother bowed dramatically as they both bundled themselves passed her into Nonnatus to escape the cold.


	16. Chapter 16

"I think Ted has found a friend", Bob said, glancing across to the sitting room to where his brother was entertaining Trixie in his usual ebullient manner.

Chummy, her hands deep in dishwater as penance for missing her sister in law's visit, had already taken in the sight and was immediately disconcerted as Trixie and Ted seemed to make a beeline for each other. The last person she had expected to see was Ted when he appeared around the door, thinking he was still somewhere in the depths of New York. They had spent many a moment as children cursing each other's existence, too similar in age and so different in character and Chummy was not entirely sure that the edge between them had softened as they grew into adults.

She pursed her lips as she looked across again. Her brother was a flirt, she knew that; but then again so was Trixie. She liked Trixie for all her coquettish nature but she wondered what ground she was on with Ted Browne. He may have been her brother and she did indeed love him, but she doubted that she could trust him entirely.

"You do realise mother will have kittens if another one of her children dares step over the line to join the common herd" Bob said, in an entirely joking manner, although she knew he had hit very close to a very treacherous mark.

"Bob!" she replied, trying to hide a smile and he looked suitably admonished, perhaps realising in retrospect it was bordering on inappropriate bearing in mind his Mother's reaction to Chummy's choice of husband. Ted doing the same would just about finish her off.

"Is he staying with you at the flat?" Chummy asked, shaking suds from a plate.

"One imagines" he replied, knowing how irresponsible his youngest brother could be, flitting from place to place, woman to woman and not particularly caring what devastation he left in his wake.

"When did you know he was coming to London?" she asked, reaching to her side to place the plate down.

"Yesterday. Mother had a telephone call from him when he arrived. I think he stayed with Artie Featherstone last night". The name meant nothing to Chummy.

Laughter pervaded its way from the sitting room where Ted was now managing to charm, it seemed, Sister Evangelina. Chummy blanched and turned back to her dishes deciding that that was a conversation she simply wished to expunge from her memory.

"What time does our brother in law finish his shift?" Bob asked.

Chummy glanced at the clock on the wall. "He will be here in an hour or so" she replied, seeing the clock tick towards 7 o'clock, looking forward to see him as she somehow always did even though it had only been a matter of hours.

"Well, how about a cup of tea then and I can telephone Williams and he can bring the car and we can play chauffeur to take you both home?"

"You can take Peter. I am here until midnight; later if someone is in labour".

"Midnight?" he replied. "How do you get home?"

"Bicycle" Chummy replied, never feeling a single qualm about the mile journey home whatever hour of the night it might be.

"Don't worry about me Bobs" she continued. "As much as Mater certainly thinks that the East End is going to swallow me up whole, no-one even thinks of harming us". She knew that for a fact that the midwife commanded respect even from the drunkest, hardiest old bloke to the children circling the streets on their bicycles too.

She saw her brother purse his lips. "If you say so".

"I do say so" Chummy replied, smiling at him, taking a dishcloth from the side, pushing her brother out of the way so she could attend to putting the cups and plates away.

Some while later she rubbed cream into her hands, feeling horribly dry from the dishes. Peter, Bob and Ted had been and gone and she could not help but wonder if her husband had been dragged to the nearest public house. He was never a drinker to excess and had openly declared to her that his nights would rather be at home with her but she was secretly quite pleased her brother had been so welcoming. In truth, even though he would not say it, he was perfectly entitled to roll in drunk whenever he felt like it and as his wife, she would have to smile and breathe and accept.

"I do like your brother" Trixie announced as she sidled up to her friend.

"Which one?" Chummy joked.

"The one that isn't married!" Trixie replied, taking the pot of cream that was passed to her and drawing her finger through it, working the flowery smelling balm into her hands. Not to say she did not like Bob Browne, she did, but a married man was a married man.

"Trixie," Chummy breathed, feeling better to be direct with her friend. "Be careful of Ted. Please".

"I am a grown woman you know", Trixie replied.

"I know that. But Ted…" Chummy paused, trying to think of a way to say it properly. "He, well, he...he has a girlfriend already"

"Yes, he told me" Trixie replied, taking another dab of hand cream.

Chummy was quite stunned that her brother had clearly managed to work his 'magic' so quickly.

"It's over. Has been for months".

It was news to Chummy, but to be truthful she had always known that Anna would never be Ted's wife if he could help it. He was too feckless and erratic to be a husband or a father for that. If anything, he fought their mother more than she did and he would not be cow towing to her demands regarding a wedding any time soon. She could imagine all her other brothers as fathers long before they had children; she could imagine her husband as a father and even what Fred might have been as a Dad all those years ago, but Ted? No. It would take a formidable woman to rein him in.

"He is taking me to the Dorchester for tea on Sunday" Trixie announced.

Chummy's heart clattered to her feet and her expression changed not thinking for one minute that in the moments that Ted had been in Nonnatus that he would be arranging dates with her friends. "Please look after yourself, Trixie. For me".

"I will" Trixie replied, smiling, squeezing her friend's hand. "Stop worrying! It's only an afternoon tea" she continued brightly. She could handle Ted Browne.

The remainder of the night was unremarkable, Chummy's mind wandering as she cycled home under the leaden sky and the occasional snowflake drifting into her field of vision. She did not quite know what to make of today. She loved her brothers but did not necessarily like Ted and his ways and his involvement with her friend might only result in trouble. Time and absence did not seem to have matured him and for a man of thirty three, he really should know better. As the winter night gripped her, she shivered, speeding up the revolutions of the wheels underneath her as she made her way home through the deathly quiet streets. She was carrying this odd feeling of separation from herself as she shuddered again like somebody had walked over her grave.

Locking the front door carefully behind her, she crept upstairs to the bathroom quickly washing and swiping a brush through her hair. Tiptoeing into the bedroom she found her nightdress underneath the covers, wrapped around a hot water bottle. She smiled indulgently as he slept, his back to her, ever so grateful that someone somewhere had found him for her; that he would even think to be so considerate as to warm up her nightdress for her.

Chummy changed quickly, dancing across the lino and slid into bed as he turned in his sleep onto his back. She paused for a moment fearing having disturbed him, seeing his eyes open slightly in the darkness.

She reached across and kissed him; her lips ghosting over his skin in need of a cuddle and the kind of attention only a husband could provide to shake away that shiver from her spine.

"Good grief!" he whispered, voice heavy with sleep, feeling the night air pervade from her face. "You're frozen".

Chummy smiled, an almost malevolent grin that he did not see, and before he could utter another word an ice cold hand shot under the cord of his pyjama bottoms as she heard a most remarkable intake of breath at the bitter assault on his skin.

"Unhand me, woman. Now!" he said through gritted teeth.

_"No"._


	17. Chapter 17

Peter loved the snow. Those memories of that time with his brother, running, skippin and skidding through the streets as they stood there, giggling like mad men mouths wide open catching snowflakes on their tongues.

As the kettle bubbled beside him he took in the pink sky, laden heavy with snow and below him the ground was untouched, a carpet of white covering the streets below. It had always been a competition between him and his brother and their father as to who could destroy the crisp whiteness of the garden at Reeves Road first. He had remembered the day where he had been up particularly early, creeping downstairs to ensure that those first footsteps were his and then deciding to fall, face first into the snow leaving a 'body print' behind instead. His brother's face had been a picture although his mother's punishment - to stand in the kitchen in his soaking wet pyjamas, slippers and dressing gown for as long as she wished - had been a sight to behold as he had stood stock still and shivering.

The kitchen was slowing taken on a hue as the sun gently rose, his body still far too used to waking at dawn even on a rare day off. At least he had the luxury of a lie in and intended to take advantage of every moment of it.

The tea having been made, he gently placed both tea cups down and slipped back into bed. Chummy slept, curled up, deep asleep although in her current state her husband was wondering if there would some manner of revenge that could be easily exacted for her chilly-handed assault on him last night. He was warm as toast so the short sharp shock of cold hands would have little effect. Beside him though, he spotted the glass of water he had taken to bed that night with little more than a tablespoon or two of water still within it and a devilsome idea struck. It was still fit for purpose.

Ever so carefully he picked up the glass and with a steady hand, held it over her letting drips carefully fall onto her cheek. In sleep he saw her react, twitching until she woke.

"Peter! You are an absolute beast!" she exclaimed, eyes shooting up to the glass that was barely inches from her face. As her arm flailed he took his hand away, careful if no spilling any more water on the bedclothes or on himself.

"I'm sorry" he said, sounding as contrite as he could.

"No, you're not" she said, brushing water that had crept from her cheek to her chin.

"No" he repeated. "I'm not". She couldn't help but smile. If the worst he could do was drip water on her, she had nothing to be concerned about.

"So what do you plan to do today then?" she asked, knowing and being utterly jealous of the fact that it was his day off.

"Sleep until noon", he started "have lunch with Mum and then Mum asked me if would help Dad paint the back room. She did want me to cover over the hole in the shed roof, but it's a bit late for that with all the snow".

"Snow?" she asked, remembering the flakes she saw last night.

"Yes plenty" he replied seeing a drip of water that she had missed roll down her neck as she swiped it away.

"Oh, joy upon joys". If she had not had to cycle through it, she would have been quite happy that the sky had decided of unload its contents onto the streets of Poplar. "That ought to be fun", she continued, knowing she had Canada Buildings on her list today. She took up her tea cup and took a sip, ready to let the new day unfold.

After his afternoon of exertion knowing he would spend most of the evening picking paint off his skin, Peter decided to walk home from his parents, feet scuffing the snow that lay in his path. There had been some fresh snowfall and around him he could hear children shouting, no doubt engaged in the snowball fights he and his brother used to enjoy.

Behind him, as he strolled down Devons Road, he heard the purr of an engine and turned to see his brother in law slowly pull up.

"Spectacular afternoon, don't you say?" Bob announced through the window. "Care for a lift home?"

Peter smiled and nodded, running around the front of the car to get in.

"I say," Bob continued. "One doesn't suppose there is a Public House within spitting distance?" It still stunned Peter as to exactly how much alcohol his brother in law could sink.

"There's The Bells" Peter replied. "But its not the best".

"Alcohol or surroundings?"

"A bit of both, but it is only a minute or two away".

"Then, fire away with directions!" Bob announced, driving into the next street where the pub lay on the corner.

"Do you think the Rolls will be safe here old chap?" Bob asked, eyeing up the large number of children its presence in the street had attracted as they both exited the car.

"It will be" Peter replied, whistling loudly to attract the attention of Jack Smith, who ran immediately across the street.

"To make sure that this car stays in one piece and without a mark on it", Peter said to him, twirling a tuppence between his fingers. He could see that Jack had one eye on the sleek wing and the other on the currency in the Constable's hand.

"Who's it belong to Constable?" Jack asked.

"Akela's brother" Peter replied, nodding over to the rather finely dressed man who was standing a foot or two away, looking rather nervous.

"After we return" he continued, the coin finding its way back into his pocket.

As requested, and thinking of the sweets that that tuppence could purchase, Jack Smith stood guard as the two men pushed open the door of the pub.

Above them there was a thick cloud of cigarette smoke that clung to the ceiling as they made their way to seats by the window. Peter was about to put his hand in his pocket when he was stopped.

"On me" Bob replied as he walked to the bar, quickly returning with two well filled glasses.

"One thinks a toast is on order" he continued. "To Friday and to Vronny having the rather fabulous idea to take Mother to the theatre and to Sister Julienne for putting my sister on duty that night".

Bob thought for a moment. "One does have to say it is not every day though you toast a Nun!"

Peter raised his glass too, thinking perhaps that they should toast Sister Julienne and the ladies of Nonnatus more often for the way in which they cared for Poplar. For a moment he felt guilty that he was sitting in a public house whilst she was out there somewhere in the cold.

"What brings you down here again?" Peter asked.

"Vronny wanted me to pop into Nonnatus. She wants to see if we can help. _Financially_"

Peter nodded his head. He knew they relied heavily on donations and charitable works but he was not entirely sure his wife would be comfortable about the prospect of her family funding something for Nonnatus.

"I would prefer though old chap if you did not mention this conversation to Chummy. I do realise she may feel compromised and I also fear she will think that with father arriving soon that she has sent me to warn you off or something preposterous like that".

"Of course". He could see his brother in law's point entirely and it was perhaps one of those things that his wife did not need to know at least for now.

When they returned to the car, Bob pulled a rather tatty looking tin box of mints out of his pocket, offering them to his companion. Peter took one, knowing that his wife might ask why he had been drinking in the middle of the afternoon and then that would lead to the inevitable conversation about Bob and his visit to Nonnatus.

"Works on Vronny and will work on my sister!" Bob smiled as the Rolls, thankfully still in one shiny piece trundled down the cobbled street away from the pub.

As he opened the front door of the flat, the lights were on and he wondered whether he had, by accident, left them on when he had departed that morning. He was trying to think back until he saw her gabardine on the peg.

"Camilla?" he asked, walking towards the living room, finding her sitting at the desk clearly writing a letter.

"Only me!" she replied. "Sister Julienne sent me home early to make sure I got here before the snow started again".

Peter smiled. He had been right about the Sister, who cared for each and every one of those girls as though they were her own daughters. He reached down and kissed her.

"Hmmm..." she pondered. "Whiskey and mint" she said immediately. "Has Bob's been here?"


	18. Chapter 18

It had been a strange day of fretting for Chummy who had not minded in the least that her husband and brothers had clearly made plans, but it made her just that touch apprehensive that she may be a subject of conversation even between three people she loved dearly. Not to say that she minded her brothers telling Peter anything they wished, it just did not settle well that she may be the centre of attention, albeit in her absence.

"Are you sure you don't want me to cook anything?" she asked, not fearing she had repeated herself.

"Camilla".

Why did he always have to say her blasted name like _that_? In one short word, tranquility rippled its way from her the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She did wonder from time to time how just hearing her name - her proper name - could have such a peaceable, arousing or persuasive effect on her but this time she chose not to consider it too much.

"There is no need to think about us and besides it's too late now" he continued, hands resting on her arms. "Go to work!"

She smiled and leant forward to kiss him.

"Here's me going out to slave and you are just going to get drunk with my brothers…" she mused as she walked down the hallway towards the door, Ted having added himself to the previous party of two.

"We _can_ go out" he replied, thinking perhaps she would have preferred it.

"Peter", she replied, turning to him, this time her turn to reassure. "Do you think I mind? You never go out and come back drunk cursing the house down like some husbands around here. Look at Frank over the hallway. One doesn't know how May copes with it". He could not help but agree. Some of the most almighty arguments could be heard pervading from that flat day in and night out and it had often broken his sleep hearing crashes of doors and the low rumble of raised voices. It had pleased him no end that in these few weeks of marriage, not a crossed word had been had between him and his wife and he hoped that would persist for many a month to come.

"Just enjoy yourself" she concluded quietly, just about to open the door when there was a knock. Opening it she found Bob nursing a rather full looking brown paper bag against his chest like a new born child.

"You still here?" he greeted her with mock derision at her continued presence clear.

"Yes I am" she replied, haughtily. "But one has no intentions of staying one minute longer to witness any of the butchery that you intend to create in my house".

"How wonderfully spiffing that you are leaving then!" Bob replied, as Chummy stepped aside to let him in and Bob could see Peter hesitate to press his lips to hers in goodbye whilst there was company in the hallway.

"Just blasted kiss the girl!" Bob almost shouted, as a heavy palm landed on Peter's shoulder. "Big brother shan't be knocking your lights out for it!"

By the time the door shut behind her, Bob had installed himself in the living room by the fire that had been lit some time ago, warming the house against the chill that he had felt coursing through his bones on the walk up to the flat.

"Apologies and all of those things for the early arrival. Vronny dragged Mother out for pre-theatre drinks so I took a rather speedy leave before she could ask me where I planned to spend the evening".

Peter shook his head. "Not a problem" he continued, taking three glasses out from the cabinet, knowing that there were expecting Ted at some point too. The package that Bob had brought with him, two bottles of Whiskey and cigarettes that he knew Bob smoked, had been left on the table. Peter sensed at times that Bob chose his battles with his mother too.

As Peter poured generous measures, Bob spotted the one and only wedding photograph that Peter and Chummy had; of them standing on the steps of Nonnatus after the reception surrounded by a sea of friends. He stood up and collected the photograph, lovingly framed and presented to the newlyweds on return from honeymoon by Sister Julienne.

Peter could see he was considering the photograph carefully, not seeing his own mother.

"Mother not there?" Bob asked, knowing she had at least attended the ceremony if the fury that he had witnessed under the roof of his own house was anything to go by.

"No" Peter replied, with some clear sadness in his voice if only for the wash of upset that he saw on his wife's face when her mother had departed the reception without a by your leave.

"One thing you have to remember old chap about Mother is that she desperately wanted a daughter", he mused, standing in front of the fire, photograph in hand. "She had 5 sons, but wanted a dainty, elegant little girl who would wear frills, do ballet and marry the person mother chose for her without a word of reproach".

He turned around to receive a glass, moving to his seat, taking the photograph with him. "Mother wanted memories of her daughter's wedding to be printed in Tatler, the Times _and_ the Illustrated News as she stood on the steps of St Margaret's glowing like the bride herself".

"Instead she got the East End and one photograph taken by the local doctor", Peter replied stating a fact knowing that Dr Turner had arrived, the only owner of a camera in the immediate neighbourhood, and the bride had requested just one photograph of everybody and no more.

"Mother never 'got' anything. One thinks that that is my sister's point all along".

Peter could not help but agree. "I'd just like to make her happy" he said, entirely at ease in the company of her brother. "That's all I am here for". One thing that Peter Noakes had now was a purpose and a reason and that was Camilla Browne, God forbid her mother should think otherwise. "I'd like her to 'get' that - I'm only here to make her daughter happy".

Bob raised an eyebrow. "Good Luck with that my friend" he said, raising his glass in a one-sided toast.

Peter could not help but give short laugh. It had taken him a while to understand the depth to which his wife's feelings, or perhaps desperate confusion, ran with regards to her mother and only with her explicit permission would he ever try to challenge his mother in law. The boat was already on rocky seas and as much as he had had to bite his tongue, his respect for wife ran too deep to do anything that would ensure that any semblence of true reconcilation was lost to the depths. Still he had thought, one day, when all else was lost there were words that needed saying but only when his wife was strong enough.

"Mother sent her everywhere. Roedean, finishing school, cookery school, you name it trying to make her into the daughter she wanted to be. When she didn't turn out to be that, after all of mother's efforts, well, she just turned into a disappointment and Poplar was the icing on the cake". It was a truth that both Bob and Peter knew and there was no point in beating about the bush about it.

"I personally think that doing what she is doing here is admirable. Breaking the mould for the Brownes as it were".

Peter would like to think it the other way - that when his wife was born, the mould shattered into so many pieces it could never be retrieved.

"Has she ever told you how she got those two scars on her leg?" Bob asked, with the flow of alcohol possibly breaking his sisters's confidence. He was pleased when Peter replied in the affirmative, recalling the conversation they had had the first night she lay in his bed. Lips pressed to hers his hand had skirted down her thigh, pulling her knee over his hip and his fingertips found the two ridges lying on her skin.

"I saw them before we got married", he replied, innocently, not realising what he had implied.

"Well blast me" Bob replied, suddenly laughing loudly. "Good for my sister! Virtue be damned is what I would always say!"

Lubricated by the drink in his hand, Peter joined him in laughter. Anyone else and Peter might have expected a black eye.

"I think that's all she wants – someone to accept her for the person she is; not what they want her to be" Bob continued.

"Well, I do".

"That I well believe" he said, taking another sip.

Bob was about to carry on when there was a knock on the door.

"That will be the brother" he said, gesturing vaguely towards the door as Peter got up. "Best let the reprobate in".


	19. Chapter 19

As the clock ticked on, between the three of them they had made short shrift of one of the bottles and Ted was chain-smoking his way through his brother's cigarettes. Not that Bob had noticed as his head was swimming and he was finding it most difficult to even consider sitting up. Peter too was heavily convinced that his legs would not take him particularly far, although he had managed to open a window to disperse the smoke as that was the one thing where he knew there would be a risk of banishment to the settee for the night if there was a trace of tobacco in the air. He had been offered a cigarette on several occasions since the night began but had refrained, knowing how much his wife detested the smell beyond reason.

This had been a most remarkably successful night and a rather good idea. A quorum had been found that as long as a certain lady was settled and happy that both brothers had no objections and there had been an ease of familiarity between the three that extended far beyond the facilitator of alcohol. Both Bob and Peter would have to both tell their wives, perhaps, that they had been right about each man respectively and both certainly felt more at ease about the situation than ever before. The fact that Ted now had been shaking of hands and amiably probing his brother in law's background leaving the situation feeling rather comfortable and when it came to it, for all parties concerned, most acceptable.

"Forgot to mention," Ted suddenly announced, blowing smoke away over his shoulder. "You'll never guess who I ran into this afternoon. Old George Pilkington".

"You mean that awful chap who was my CO for all of two minutes in France?" Bob asked as his brother nodded.

"Most awful Commanding Officer you could ever come across" Bob explained to Peter. "He couldn't command a pack of dogs let alone grown men to fight!"

Unfortunately Peter knew that well having spent his own time in France and Holland in years past.

"You're of an age" Bob said. "Where did you end up?"

"Market Garden". Peter replied bluntly. Well that was where he ended up before that moment, the deafening silence and suddenly the force that propelled him from the back as he landed on his stomach the overwhelming smell of burning flesh around him, not realising, not _connecting_ that with the overwhelming pain in his shoulder.

"Christ!" Bob said suddenly, taking a fortifying sip. "You were there? Bloody awful shambles that turned out to be. Not many of you lads got out of their alive".

"My brother was killed there" Peter said, realising it had fallen loosely from his tongue induced solely by what he had been imbibing for the past few hours. The manner of his brother's protracted death –_ seeing_ _his injuries that were to leech life from him over 4 excruciating days_– had not been something that he had been able to even think of contemplating, describing or communicating. His parents did not know what he had seen, his wife might know one of these days, but the struggle to tell them meant that for now those words simply would not come. It had been too many years since he had taken himself to that time; nightmares that had raged had lessened and the pain he had felt in his shoulder for more years that he cared to remember was just now this peculiar numbness that not even the touch of love could break through.

"It's a sorry state of affairs" Bob continued. "My condolences".

Ted nodded in agreement; he being too young to have fought, but saw cousins and brothers go to fight, wondering if he would see them again.

"We got married on the twenty fourth of September to remember my brother; the day he died" Peter offered. They both knew their brief engagement had raised an eyebrow in more ways than one; the sum totality of their relationship having been only a handful of months, but at his suggestion, and the reason behind it she had readily agreed.

"And an admirable conclusion to come to" Bob said, sensing this was not a subject that he should provoke further having witnessed first hand the death and destruction that the fighting had brought.

"Speaking of wives" he said, turning away onto lighter subjects. "Seems our Ted is quite taken with your Trixie".

"She's a divine little thing" Ted announced.

"Trixie" Peter said, trying not to come across as though he had suddenly take on the role of Trixie's guardian. "She comes across a certain way but she isn't...just look after her".

"Pretty little filly though you can't deny me that" Ted continued, pointing.

"Yes but…" Suddenly Peter felt sober. He had known Trixie for longer than any of the Nurses, Nuns aside, but it had only been through his wife that he had seen her for more than the flirty, glamourous girl that would cycle her way through the streets and turn heads wherever she went. "Look after her? For Camilla".

"Good grief" Ted joked. "Anyone would think it was still on the ration!"

"Were women on the ration?" Bob responded "I know Vronny seemed to think so. Still thinks so! Thoroughly tired of having to refrain from holding her hand or a peck on the cheek in public as it isn't 'seemly'! Especially when Mother is around. It's as almost as though she's forgotten where our girls came from!"

Peter decided to keep his mouth shut. Maybe they hadn't been married long enough for the shine to go, he hoped it never would but he had already revealed one secret tonight about the state of his relationship with his wife, so all in all, silence was the best policy. This was particularly bearing in mind that, currently, she had forgotten the word 'no' when it came to marital relations and his mouth had already run away with itself.

"You know I've just noticed something" Bob said, catching up. "You never call her Chummy".

"No. It just doesn't feel right". It did not feel right to call his wife by her childhood nickname. She was a grown, mature adult woman who happened to have, in his eyes, everything perfectly in the right place so calling her by a name she had been known by as a child, just felt altogether far too wrong.

"So what time is Sissy due home?" Ted asked, having glanced at the clock that was approaching midnight.

"Sissy?" Peter asked, thinking he had misheard.

"Chummy. When Ted here was little he couldn't pronounce Camilla so when she was born he knew he had a sister so just called her Sissy. Do you know I'd forgotten you used to do that!" Bob continued, addressing his brother with a frown on his face. "It was the funniest little lisp our Ted here had".

Peter looked at his watch to address the question, knowing that the clock which was not too far away, but it would involve raising his head to see. Looking down was preferable.

"Shortly. Maybe" he repeated, so used now to her erratic hours that if she said 'midnight' it usually meant a few hours later.

"Depends on whose giving birth" Peter concluded.

"Nearly had to play midwife when our third was born you know" Bob said. "Could have done with my sister then. Little creature shot out like a blasted cannon in the middle of the sitting room. I don't know how she does it. All that mess and noise. Sounded like a bally exorcism".

"and that's just the conception.." Ted chipped in as both Peter and Bob, who both had their glasses to their lips, almost choked in unison as the three laughed.

The small clock on the sideboard heralded 'midnight' moments later.

"One does suppose our Sister will be throwing us out to the lions when she comes back", Bob said, turning his attention to the prospect that the night was drawing to a close.

"You are quite welcome to stay" Peter offered, wondering after the event whether Chummy would mind.

"I for one am having great difficulty in moving" Ted offered.

"You're far too sozzled"

"Indubitably, my dear brother. I doubt my legs will carry me to the car".

"I am sure Camilla won't mind" Peter continued, hoping more than knowing she wouldn't.

"Speaking of which….what's the phrase that I heard when we were in The Bells?" Bob asked, having had to ask his brother in law several times to translate some of the conversations that were going on around them.

"Trouble and strife?" Peter offered, knowing that it was an expression he never used as he could not bear it.

"The very same. Can I use the telephone?" Bob asked, pushing himself with some effort off the chair, receiving a loose gesture from his brother in law pointing him to the direction of the device in the hallway. "Must tell the wife I'm staying here otherwise Mother will think I've run off in the heathen wilderness of the East End! Hope there's no offence there, old chap?"

"None taken" Peter replied genuinely. "Sorry we don't have space to offer beds".

"Not a problem" Bob replied, Peter again feeling a heavy palm on his shoulder. "Much prefer the floor. My backs buggered recently. I walk like a bally cripple after a soft mattress".

"I don't think I've slept on a floor since Scouts" Ted announced, plotting to remain where he was for some considerable time yet. A chair or the floor in his current loose limbed state meant quite frankly that anywhere would do.

"I say, Ted old friend" a sluggish voice came from behind them in the hallway. "The old noggin's having some ghastly trouble", Bob continued, pausing.

"What's the number for the flat?"


	20. Chapter 20

Just as he was walking from the airing cupboard, in as much a straight line that his feet would offer him whilst balancing blankets and pillows, the door to the flat opened. The task of even counting the fact that he needed two blankets and four pillows for two brothers in law had been somewhat of a perplexing experience and negotiating his way along the hallway and back to the living room had been done meticulously.

Chummy could hear a low level of laughter in the living room and with the lights glowing she could only assume that her brothers were still here and as she turned away from locking the door, saw the pile of pillows and blankets walking towards her.

The wares he was carrying squashed between them he kissed her on the cheek before she took off her coat. Even through the haze of a bout of drinking that he had not experienced for years his brain knew she looked ever so tired.

She took one look at him, standing in the hallway, smiling at her over a pillow that was held carefully by his chin.

"Does one take it my brothers are staying?" she asked.

She heard someone shout _'Can we?'_ from the living room as her husband let her past.

Then she saw them, her brothers standing side by side probably holding each other up, with silly grins on their faces. Chummy pursed her lips, shook her head and smiled.

"Give them the blankets" she said, addressing the hoard of linen that was standing behind her. "They can make their own beds up for the first time in their lives".

She felt Whiskey filled kisses planted on each cheek; before her brothers set off like a pair of twelve years olds to make up their temporary beds. Before she could turn away from the sight in front of her she heard the kettle being filled. She filled her lungs with air. Exactly what she needed, but she could well have done with some of that half-drunk bottle she had seen on the coffee table thrown in as well.

"Busy?" he asked as she stepped into the kitchen.

"Not stopped all day, all of us. Everything's aching" she said, taking a seat at the kitchen table stretching her back. "I need a soak in the bath".

"Want me to run it?" he asked. She could see that he was having to think himself through the process of tea making and she stopped herself smiling. She realised she had never seen him truly, completely drunk although she had started to notice that he was very capable of appearing completely sober until you looked carefully.

"No. Your baths are never hot enough and besides you are drunk enough to fall in".

"I don't understand how you can sit in scorching hot water and I am..." he paused, milk bottle hovering precariously over a cup. "No... yes, I am drunk".

"I'm made of sterner stuff to cope with baking hot water" she said, taking the tea from him and making her way to the bathroom.

"I'll be there in a minute" he said to her back, hearing her say goodnight to her brothers on the way.

Tea successfully negotiated, and having also said 'goodnight' he knocked on the wooden frame of the bathroom door using it as a helpful prop to stand up straight, hearing water tumbling from the taps.

"What are you knocking for?" she asked from inside. "That door has never stopped you in the past".

He had tried to be polite bearing in mind they had guests in the house, but admittedly he did wonder for a moment why he had knocked when it was only her in there. He walked in, closed the door again and sat on the edge of the bath as it filled, her tea cup having been placed on the wide windowsill. The warmth was already pervading around the room and she had started to feel her muscles relax, thinking of the deep water to sink into as she washed away the day.

She sat next to him, having shed all her clothes down to her slip and stockings.

"So how was tonight?" she asked, having been wary and in the odd occasion whilst she had had quiet moment tonight had wondered what they were up to or what they were talking about.

"I have really enjoyed their company" he replied. "Your brothers are decent chaps".

She smiled, feeling relieved and subsequently deciding that she did not want to know what else had gone on that evening if the state of the three of them was anything to go by. Sometimes ignorance was indeed bliss.

"If I fall asleep in here, get me out?" she asked, even though she was sure he too would be fast asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

He smiled and she felt his hand snake up her cheek, pulling her forward into a kiss. If one tired woman and one drunk man had not been sitting on the edge of a rapidly filling bath were it would be perfectly easy to topple into, they might have stayed there.

"I realised I never kissed you when you came home" he said, withdrawing.

"You did" she replied, feeling his thumb brushing across her cheek.

"A peck on the cheek because your brothers are in the next room does not count".

He leant towards her again, her eyes drifting closed as he breathed on her neck. Distracted she did not see his other hand leave the side of the bath and drag itself through the water, before the collected liquid was dropped unceremoniously down her back.

"If we didn't have guests Peter Noakes!" she spat under her breath, eyes flying open at the feel of warm water suddenly soak her slip.

He shrugged his shoulders and walked out smiling, thoroughly looking forward to what revenge might be exacted upon him, hopefully when he sober enough to enjoy it.

By the time she dragged herself from the bath, she found him asleep. At least he had managed to get himself undressed even though there was a trail of discarded clothing on the bedroom floor. She picked up his socks, trousers and shirt for fear of breaking an ankle in the darkness of the next morning as she dressed for work.

Sliding into bed next to him she noticed he had at least managed pyjama bottoms and a vest as well although the top as somewhat lacking. She breathed deeply and closed her eyes, muscles relaxed after the long soak in the bath feeling a kiss to her shoulder.

The words which could have been _"I love you" _were mumbled.

"Go back to sleep" she whispered, settling down herself barely able to keep her eyes open herself.

Normally, alcohol would enforce heavy sleep but tonight it was entirely different. Too many years had passed but those sensations and noises were back infiltrating his subconscious, taunting him and chasing him down.

Something was so very real about it; feeling the crunch under his feet, boots heavy as he stood on bricks haphazardly piled and broken around him. Eyes shooting this way and that looking out for that one bullet that might be his last. In the darkness of the deserted village there was not a soul to be seen only shops and homes raised to the ground, still smouldering from fires that had clearly engulfed them not so many hours ago. The acrid smell of gunpowder settled in his chest as he tried to suppress a coughing fit knowing that if there was somebody hiding in what was left of these bricks _any_ noise might attract them. Gestures and hand signals told him to halt beside a half demolished wall, only just tall enough to cover him and the two bodies to his right.

His hand flexed around the rifle as adrenalin caused his heart to race, feeling the trigger cold as his fingers tightened ready to lift the weapon to his shoulder on command. The clattering in his chest was almost real again. The tap to his shoulder; that signal he had been waiting for sent sparks down his arm and then the raising of the gun, almost feeling the weight, his arms lifting slowly fixing the sight. Out of the corner of his eye high above he saw that flash again, almost like sunlight on mirror that came and went in an instant. Inches from his head that bullet ricocheted off the wall and thundered to the ground by his feet, his hearing distorted the whistling past his ear so distinct again. The feel of somebody yanking him by the pack on his back as he was dragged away from the line of fire jolted him from sleep.

"Peter?" A weary voice greeted him, having been kicked in the haste of his awakening. "Are you alright?"

He breathed for a moment, finding her turning towards him half conscious, arm sliding across his waist and a leg winding itself between his.

"Yes. Yes" he whispered, pulling her bodily towards him. "Go back to sleep".

He had left for work before she woke again.


	21. Chapter 21

The three girls sat, bundled in their coats on the steps into the garden, taking a particularly welcome break after the morning clinic. A flask of tea was sitting by them as between them Chummy, Trixie and Jenny, wrapped their hands around their cups as they breathed in the steam to ward off the December chill.

"I was thinking" Trixie said, tucking her hair behind her ear after the wind rather rudely whipped across her face. "There is another dance on Friday. It's the last chance we will have before Christmas. Shall we go?"

"It is rather short notice" Chummy noted.

"Is your social diary so jam packed now your brothers are here that you can't spend time with your friends now?" Trixie teased, seeing Jenny giggle.

"No! Don't be such a goose!" Chummy replied. "But one's memory has become so entirely shot that I can't remember what shift Peter is on on Friday".

"Well ask him quickly!" Trixie responded, having already decided that births aside, she would be persuading the girls to go. She shook Chummy's arm in a friendly manner seeing her nod in return intending to ask him tonight. The three sat for a moment watching burnt autumn leaves dance their way across the grass. Jenny noticed immediately that Chummy seemed miles away, watching a bird hop along the roof of the convent.

"Chummy are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine" she continued, bringing herself back to reality. "I was just wondering what state Peter and my brothers are in after last night".

"Were they spectacularly drunk?" Trixie asked.

"One thinks so. They were all gone by the time I left. The living room was a blessed state though. The smell of cigarettes and alcohol truly turned the old tum". The sight that had greeted her that morning was something else and although she had noted that the window had been opened to let out the smoke, it was almost as though it had embedded itself into the cushions. She knew what her Sunday would now be taken up with.

"Speaking of which" Jenny replied, nodding to the figure appearing across the garden in the other doorway.

"Oh my days!" Chummy whispered, seeing the suitcases under his eyes, hands pushed into his pockets looking more than sorry for himself.

She stood up from her middle spot in the group and behind her Jenny and Trixie sidled up to each other, sharing warmth again.

"I had always wondered what it would be like to be married" Jenny mused seeing Peter raise a smile at the approaching form of his wife. "We never asked Chummy the question".

"By the state of him" Trixie replied. "I would imagine it's quite amusing!"

Chummy didn't hear the giggles as she said 'hello' to her husband, stepping into Nonnatus as he removed himself from the doorway.

"Sister Evangelina gave me some aspirin" he replied forlornly.

Chummy smiled but saw the grave look notwithstanding the fact he looked as though he was well and truly fighting the effects of the excess of last night.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked, voice now serious.

"Of course" she replied running her hand down his arm.

"No, I mean _talk_ to you" he emphasised. It had been playing on his mind as he had walked around Poplar all morning. He was not sure whether it was the combination of the dreaded after-effects of little sleep and too much alcohol, or the nightmare he had had that had hung around his shoulders all morning. More to the point, it was the thought of her in pain, scared and that bewilderment that did seem to still follow her even now.

"Can we go somewhere private?" he asked, having seen the girls in the garden

They found the alcove by the chapel. This was the girl's favourite place to think, hidden away but being able to hear the Sisters in prayer or in song. There was an unwritten Nonnatus rule that if there was a soul seated there, you did not disturb them so Chummy knew well that if they sat there, even for a few minutes, they could have their peace.

They sat and he tapped his knee, which tended to be her signal to huddle up close to him. She was immediately worried, thinking perhaps she had been right to concerned about last night after all. Her knees were slightly turned towards him and he turned the hem of her uniform, just about seeing the tip of the marks on her leg underneath the thin material of her stockings. Initially she had thought he was being protective, covering her up, until she realised he was looking at the scars.

"What really happened?" he asked.

"The gardener's belt happened. I told you" she said.

She had told him, in a round about way, as she lay underneath him that first night. She had forgotten they were there, so used to those marks that they almost felt as though they were no longer of any consequence to discuss. Not even thinking he might ask on that Autumn night, she had been divested of stockings and she had not realised his fingertips had found them until the wonderful feel of his lips on hers had stopped.

"You glossed over it Camilla". She had done and there was not a chance that she could deny it. That moment had been a threshold in her life where she would be giving herself to her husband, or nearly her husband as the case was, and it was a time for looking forward not back. Then he had been easy to distract from asking any further questions and the enquiry had drifted away as she had pulled his hand back to her neck.

She took one look at him and decided she was not going to be allowed to move from her seat until she told him the unvarnished truth. He had taken her hand and whilst most of the time she found it an anchor to calm her, this was to keep her there.

"I think I was only about 6 and I kicked over a flower pot on the veranda by accident. Ted and George were chasing me, only playing, but I wasn't looking where I was going and I went crashing into it. The Ayah was furious as I got soil all over my shoes and the gardener was the closest person. I only remember Mater being furious as I got blood on my dress from where she hit me. Mater wasn't concerned about anything else, other than I'd ruined a dress and a pair of shoes". She paused. "They weren't so ruined that a good scrub wouldn't clean them up".

"I know I got clouted around the head a few times when I was a kid, but not a leather belt".

"It wasn't the first time and it wasn't the last" she continued, her voice almost business like as thought she was recounting a story told her by someone else. "One can't even blub about it now. I got used to being useless. Disappointing. Failing..." she concluded with a shrug of her shoulders.

"The last thing you are is useless Camilla".

"But when you get told it so many times, you start to believe it" she whispered, staring their intertwined hands.

He lifted her chin up with his hand. "The last thing you are is useless. Not as a nurse. Not as my wife. You're not" he concluded, gently shaking his head.

"I believe you".

"Good" he replied, gently pushing a strand of her hair that had escaped. "What time do you finish tonight?"

"Seven. So, does one expect you to be getting drunk with my brothers again tonight?"

He smiled and shook his head, not intending to repeat last night for long time yet. "He was taking Ronnie and your mother out to dinner so I was thinking I might take you out too"."

"To what does one owe the pleasure?" she asked, surprised, seeing him stand up before holding a hand out for her.

"My dad always said it was a good idea to take your wife out once in a while for a good old airing".

"You are so rude to me" she smiled, taking hold of his hand and she was pulled to her feet as they took a handful of steps away from the alcove. "But can you 'air' me at the flat? Fish and chips and just us?"

Before he was going to answer in the affirmative, they heard Sister Julienne.

"Ah! Nurse Noakes, just the person! A telephone call for you. Your sister in law".

"Thank you Sister", Chummy replied, walking away, hand in hand with him, not seeing the Sister smile at the sight before her. As he kissed her goodbye, leaving Nonnatus having taken a break from his beat, she picked up the telephone.

"What ho!"

"Hello girl!" Ronnie replied. "How's Peter?"

"He looks like death warmed in a pot and left to go cold! How about Bob?"

"Do you know I've not seen him to ask him. I was up rather early for a ride out in Hyde Park with the Richardson girls and one thinks he has spent the day with Ted".

"Horseriding? Ronnie should you?" The nurse in Chummy broke out for a moment, wondering whether in her sister in law's condition that she should be taking what could be considered to be far too vigorous exercise.

"A little trip out will do me no harm" Ronnie said. "The doctor in Australia said that as long as I am gentle it will hurt nobody. In fact one feels rather invigorated! So do you know how it went?" Ronnie continued, having wondered for hours too what exactly went on and positively desperate to telephone her sister in law to ask.

"One thinks…" Chummy said. "It went rather well".

"That is good" Veronica replied. Chummy could hear the smile in her voice and both women were pleased, one particularly for the sake that her husband had been accepted for the man that he was not for the place that he was born in.

"How was the theatre?" Chummy asked, having not been to the theatre for more years than she could care to remember.

"Oh! Just spectacular. I had forgotten just how wonderful the West End could be. We met up with Jane Lyttelton and her daughter in law too. They were asking after you".

Chummy smiled. She has not seen Jane since her daughter Grace's funeral; a young mother taken in childbirth just as Chummy was beginning her midwifery training. It struck her now that whether you lived in Knightsbridge or Poplar that each mother in labour faced the same ultimate risk, that sacrifice of their life for another.

"I've just asked Sister Julienne if she minded me haranguing you all again tomorrow" Veronica said. "Bob is taking Lady B down to the coast to see someone or other and I was rather at a loose end".

"You are always welcome here Ronnie, you know that".

"Wonderful!" Ronnie replied. "One ought to be with you shortly after ten!"


	22. Chapter 22

Nonnatus stood imposing before her; dark bricks interspersed with green as weeds took advantage of the damp, rolling high into the sky as she rested at the bottom step feeling the 'tap tap tap' of her child as he or she turned merry circles inside her infused with the energy of his mother recently having eaten. The sky was oddly grey with the last of the snowfall melting away to mud-like sludge under her navy blue heels. Never had she expected to find in such a place the warmth and hope that she had done and now truly understood how her sister in law had made this place her home.

"Alright there?" a male voice came from behind her.

"Sorry Fred, was a million miles away!" she replied, seeing him touch the peak of his cap in a respectful gesture.

"Think the girls are all out if you're after 'em" he offered, seeing the absolute absence of bicycles in the shed.

"It's quite alright. They are expecting me" Ronnie replied. "One did wonder though whether one could have a moment or two in the Chapel first".

It was something that had worried her; that feeling of disengagement from herself that had crept up on her in these past few days. That feeling of doom that she could not place that would rock her in quiet moments had persisted. It had been there since they left Australia and she had dismissed it as hormones, missing her girls or both when it came to it but these past few days it had been at its very worst. Perhaps it was knowing that Christmas was only twelve days away and on Thursday they would be leaving Poplar behind for Scotland.

"Think we can arrange that!" Fred offered as they walked up the steps and he pushed open the door for her.

Sister Julienne could hear the plea uttered under the female breath. She had walked from her desk, hearing the shuffle of feet in the Chapel next door wondering who it was as she was entirely sure that all her Nurses were within the community. She paused for a moment inside her office, gently opening the door an inch.

_"__Show me my way, dear Lord. Be with me. Grant health to my body and clarity to my mind. Give me strength to take in my heart to those I love. _ _Let wisdom fall from my lips, let compassion emanate from my heart, let kindness be seen from my choices and gestures, let your love spill from my soul, let joy shine forth from my eyes. Protect and care for my family dear Lord, let them feel the love in which I hold them with every inch of their being"._

Veronica noticed the Sister kneel next to her, eyes closed, hands clasped.

"I miss my girls Sister" she announced. "I know Bob was right that they could not bear the trip but when I think of them... It's Christmas soon; opening their presents without us. One knows I have this little one with me" she replied, a hand gently caressing her abdomen, "but my girls faces are all I wish to see".

"Your girls will be overjoyed to see you when you return. Perhaps it is the best that the Lord can give you in return for the ache of separation" the Sister offered seeing a smile. The prospect of those three running down the path towards her filled her heart with joy, dampening the sickness she was feeling.

"One knows it sounds ridiculous leaving your children at this time of year, but my father has cancer. Only Bob knows. This may be his last Christmas so we had to travel, but one does wish they were here". Sister Julienne could see that Veronica was caressing her stomach again.

"Are you worried about baby too?" This was truly something that the Sister felt she could offer real and definitive answers to.

"Oh no. I have rather been sneaking examinations and Sister Bernadette kindly listened to Baby for me, so I know its simply me being excessive as usual". She turned to the Sister.

"One is so grateful you have all been so welcoming to me. Chummy often wrote in her letters about this place and she, well she explained what was holding her here. Not just Peter, but _the place_. I really and truthfully understand her now. I know am lucky; the life I lead. Money is not a worry, a roof over my family's head not a worry. One thinks that is why I respect Chummy so much. She is doing what fulfils her heart".

Sister Julienne knew that calling. She had experienced it and seen it both in herself and every nurse that had been welcomed under Nonnatus' roof, whether they had been there for two months or two years. Her heart had been the reason she had taken up her post here and it would ensure that her stay would persist for as many years as God felt the need to hold her there.

Behind them, there was a sudden crescendo of voices.

"I imagine we have a rather full house by that noise" Sister Julienne replied, knowing that the morning clinic must have been concluded by the sudden presence. "I do believe that tea is in order".

"Let me do it" Ronnie said suddenly. "one sits here and you have all be up and about since dawn. How many people should I be making it for?"

As Veronica made her way around the kitchen fetching cups and switching on the kettle, the room suddenly filled around her with chatter of the patients they had seen and the rota for the calls that afternoon.

"Oh Chummy" Veronica suddenly remarked, "Bob was nursing the most spectacular headache when I saw him last night. How's Peter?"

"Oh he perked up after supper". Chummy has not realised that her comment could have had double meaning until she saw Jenny and Trixie stifle laughter.

Chummy's skin burned the most horrific shade of red when she realised. She had spoken the truth and he had been brighter after the greasy fish and chips had lined his stomach and they had drifted off to bed in perfect companionship. He had a disturbed night though, frightening them both awake reaching for her after which they had made love as a comfort from whatever had irked his sleep. He still did not tell her why he had woken and somehow she had been unable to ask before he finally fell asleep on her chest.

"One will have you know" Chummy scolded, "that I was referring to the resolution of his hangover!"

"Of course you were darling!" Trixie responded.

"So did you ask him about Friday?" Jenny questioned, remembering the conversation from the afternoon before.

"Yes" Chummy replied. "He is on duty".

"So are you coming with us?" Trixie asked, keen that everyone was to go and with no husband to command her attention, at last one friend had no excuse.

"Yes" she replied simply.

"Perfect!" Trixie announced. "Veronica, will you come too?"

Chummy's ears immediately pricked up; thinking that perhaps although she now would be entirely happy to go to the dance in the knowledge of her well established friendship with the East End, she had been rather taken aback that first time with so much _newness_ around her. As much as Veronica was friendly, she wondered whether the invitation was simply too much and it might not be her type of place or entertainment. She paused for a moment, realising though, that the East End was hardly the 'place' she was meant to be either.

"There is a dance at the Parish Hall once a fortnight" Cynthia clarified. "Its sometimes terrible, but most of the time if you have good company its survivable!"

"Much that I would love to", Veronica replied, genuinely as she took up a seat; tea prepared. "Bob and I have to show our faces at an engagement party south of the river. We are under orders!" She paused. "But thank you; in other circumstances one might just have come!"

The whole group took that at the behest of Lady Browne that she needed to be elsewhere.

"Veronica," Sister Julienne said, catching her attention. "Speaking of occupation, I was wondering whether you would care to come to see the clinic next week?"

"Oh! That would be most perfect. Thank you Sister" Veronica replied as the plate of biscuits was shared amongst the party.

Sister Julienne nodded. Since the conversation with Bob Browne and his insistence that she must write a list of what Nonnatus needed purchasing or replacing and simply give it to him, she had wanted to demonstrate in gratefulness how their kind donation would be utilised for good. In the spirit of honesty she would have to broach the subject of this sudden influx of new equipment with her Nurses and also confess as to the origins of the money to purchase it.

She would perhaps speak to one nurse separately from the rest.


	23. Chapter 23

"So what do we think?" Jenny asked as the four walked arm in arm down the Dock Road towards the Parish Hall.

"About?" Trixie asked. "The history of the world?"

"Bob's donation" Chummy interrupted knowing where this conversation had been heading since they stepped out of Nonnatus; feeling those questions pending as they quickly dressed. She had been grateful that Sister Julienne had spoken to her separately about her brother's kind offer to help them and whilst they had all sat stock still as Sister Julienne broke the news, Chummy could feel every eye on the room on her.

"It will make things easier for us" Cynthia mused, having seen the copy of the list that Sister Julienne had made. "We won't have to worry about the creaky legs on the examination tables or the chips out of the beakers and bottles".

"Or that extension clamp that one seems to always get ones fingers trapped in!" Chummy offered.

"Do you mind he did it Chummy?" Jenny asked.

She had to think for a moment. Underneath it all her main concern had been her mother not finding out that her brother was trying to support his sister in the only way he could think it possible. Chummy knew he could simply just not give her money as out of loyalty to her husband she would not have accepted it, but this was different. He was indirectly helping her.

"No" she replied, having assured Sister Julienne privately that her worries about her reaction were unfounded. The goal of each and every one of the Nurses and Nuns was to ensure good medical care for the residents of Poplar and ultimately that would be what Bob and Veronica's assistance would achieve and Chummy really had no argument against it.

"I think Bob did it to show me he supported me too; knowing what Mater has been like over Peter".

"Have you seen her recently these past few days?" Jenny asked, having half expected that one of these mornings they were to be summoned by Sister Julienne to be told that Nonnatus had to be shining like a new pin for a visitor.

"No", Chummy replied, having received no word to be catapulted back to the flat or indeed that her mother intended to visit her either. She had also not seen Ted since she had found him asleep in an armchair in front of her fire either. The lack of contact could be read in several ways - pleased that her mother was not intending on visiting again or questions why she could not bear to see her own child. Frankly, Chummy had thought, she was not entirely sure which one was which.

"Not a word. I say Trixie" she suddenly thought, "does Mater know about your date with Ted?"

"I have no idea" Trixie replied. It had not even crossed her mind before now.

"But it is still going to happen?" Cynthia asked, voice reticent.

"Of course".

None of them would say anything but it did make them uncomfortable.

At the strains of 'Money Honey', the four girls together whirled around the room laughing as they danced together. Somehow to Chummy it felt entirely false. Suddenly she was not there; wanting desperately to be at home. She had been as enthusiastic as anyone else about coming to the dance; otherwise it would have been an evening listening to the radio, or cleaning or ironing but tiredness was starting exhibit itself and her eagerness was starting to wane. His nightmares these past two nights had interrupted her sleep and with her brother's visit drawing to a close she had started to become quite upset that it might be months or even years before she might see him again. It was family. Since she had married, her thoughts and attentions had turned to that very thing, being scooped up into the Noakes' had been the most wonderful revelation and it made her realise just how hollow and lonely her own childhood had been. She had known underneath but his parents only brought it even closer to home for her.

She wondered where he was as they spun and twirled their way careful not to knock into anyone. It had to be something that was said in the company of her brothers as in all the weeks they had been married he had slept fitfully.

All of sudden she felt her head start to swirl and she had to sit down. The one and only time she had been to the fairground as a child had brought her to a waltzer and was that same sensation.

"Chummy? Are you alright?" Jenny asked, the group having stopped, her feeling Jenny take her by the elbow.

"Just a miniscule feeling of dizziness!" she announced as she gently pressed her hand to her forehead. "In fact, no, rather copious dizziness to be truthful! One thinks" she paused, taking a breath. "One thinks that some fresh air may be in order". It was the cigarette smoke again too and it was settling on her chest.

"Do you want one of us to come with you?" Cynthia said, having to raise her voice over the noise.

"No, no, no need" she replied, waving her hand. Fresh air would do wonders and she walked as calmly as her legs would take her, leaving the throng of people behind.

The ice cold air was exhilarating as she stood on the steps of the Parish Hall, eyes firmly closed breathing in the night. Thinking back the last time she had stood and sought this place for peace was her wedding day hearing chatter and music swell from inside as her guests enjoyed their afternoon.

To her left a throat was cleared and she opened her eyes.

"Ted?"

"The very same" he replied taking up a spot beside her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, extremely surprised to find him loitering.

"The adorable Trixie mentioned a dance on Friday and I thought 'well Ted old man, time to sample the East End a little further'. Are you out here for the night?"

She avoided the question. "Does Trixie know you are here?"

"No. Thought I might surprise the girl. Just passed that husband of yours about half a mile or so back as well".

Chummy nodded. "Ted, is Mater still in London?"

"Not the first idea!" Ted announced. "Decided not to stay at the flat so ended with the Featherstones rather than be quizzed as to my every step. Now are you coming in?"

"I'll stay out here for while" she replied, voice quiet against the night.

"If you insist" her brother responded, his tone almost equating to a shrug of the shoulders at her insistence.

"Oh Ted?"

"Hmm?" he replied, spinning in his heels as he was just about to push open the hall doors.

"The other night, when you and Bob were at the flat. What did you talk about?" She had to know what had been troubling him as it was altogether too much of a coincidence.

"Men's things my dear sister. Men's things!"

She watched him go inside feeling a warm blast of air accompanied by seconds a song she did not recognise as he opened the door to go in feeling decidedly 'dismissed' and no further forward. Just one word might have assuaged her fears but clearly her brother was not about to be forthcoming. Typical of her brother though. She was merely a woman therefore not privy to these things that were discussed behind closed doors.

Secretly she hoped that Peter had been heading in the direction of the Parish Hall if he had only been half a mile or so away, but after twenty minutes she realised it was probably not going to be the case and she was just about to turn back to join her friends when she heard a whistle from across the street. Smiling, she turned to see him walking from Ida Street towards her.

"I was just coming to see if you were still all behaving yourselves" he teased, taking her hand as they met at the foot of the steps.

"Well one cannot account for everyone else. My brother has just arrived".

"I know, I saw him. Are you not going back in?"

"No". She really was not in the mood for more smoke and noise and home seemed bliss.

"Do you want me to take you home?" he asked. Either he was a mind reader or her face was showing more emotion than she realised. "You will have to join me on the last half mile of my beat, but after I have signed off shift, I am all yours"

She smiled and ran back into the hall to excuse herself from the party, seeing her brother entertaining the crowd as was his usual want.

The very second they stepped over the threshold of the flat, she began to feel better but craving lying down in the warmth of their bed.

"Race to the bathroom?" he offered.

"Share?" she replied, not wanting to be separated from him. She couldn't explain why though.

"Camilla," he said turning back to her. "What on earth is wrong?"

"One thinks I am just tired" she responded as he led her to the bathroom as quietly they washed and changed for bed in relatively silence, both minds occupied with what the night might bring.

As they slipped into bed, her immediate thought was to be as physically close to him as she could; just needing to be held tight. Something somewhere had spooked her these last few hours and could not escape the coldness that was ripping at her skin. As much has she had been pleased about her brothers and as much as she had smiled at the state her husband had been in in their company, there was something she could not place. Perhaps it was not knowing what had provoked his nightmares; perhaps it was remembering the thwack of leather on her leg, but something, _something_ was deeply unsettling.

"We talked about the War. About my brother" he suddenly announced as she toyed with a button on his pyjama shirt. He had seen she had been distracted; seen her reaction last night when once again those sounds had exploded in his ears and that smell of death had assaulted him as the kiss that had been gentle reassurance turned a corner.

"Is that why you haven't been sleeping properly?" There. She had asked it and it was for him to answer.

After a moment she felt him nod.

"When I first started nursing, I nursed a lovely man called Thomas. Five years after the War had ended and he was still in Hospital. He had the most horrific injuries and he would refuse to have them dressed by anybody but me. He died before I could ask him why".

"I'm not dying Camilla".

"And Lord help me if you were" she whispered. "I always regretted never asking him; seeing if he would tell me why he only spoke to me. When you woke up last night I saw the look in your eyes that he used to have".

"Camilla, I..." he felt the tips of her fingers on his lips.

"You haven't been to the grave since just before we got married". He had gone the day before the wedding, to tell his brother he was going to be a married man in the morning. It almost felt as though he needed to seek his brother's permission.

"No" he replied, feeling guilty, even though he knew his mother went as many times as she could and the memory of his brother was an immaculate resting place.

"On Sunday morning, after church", she suggested, "would you take me to meet him? I'd like to".

Peter nodded. He thought he had faced those memories but the simple exchange of conversation with her brother had reminded him. He had been quite pleased, no relieved, that she had not pushed him as he did not have the words quite yet. The door however had been opened and perhaps on Sunday he might be able to tell her more.

She did need to know.


	24. Chapter 24

_"Tell me about him"._

It was four short words, but ones that meant more than he could ever have imagined. He knew he had been quiet - barely singing, whispering the prayers during the service; a sick dread lining his stomach knowing that as soon as they stepped outside the Church he would be walking her to the cemetary. It was a quandry to outlive all quandries. She needed to know; she_ ought_ to know, but_ how_ she would know was trapped knotlike in his chest. She was the person he was closest to in the world, the wife he perhaps he thought would never have but even with this knowledge it troubled him immensely to not know whether he could explain.

They had walked in silence to the graveyard and he had drawn her to the stone under the cherry tree, precisely to the spot where his mother had insisted the grave be placed.

_"Philip John Noakes"_

_"Beloved son of William and Irene, brother of Peter"_

_"Greatly missed son, brother and friend"_

_"22 October 1926 - 24 September 1944"_

His not yet eighteen year old brother lying underneath the soil before him.

As they stood side by side she had felt his little finger find hers, and taking her lead from him she followed like a well-behaved child as she knelt beside him on the dry grass.

"Mum and Dad couldn't think what to put on his headstone" Peter said, gently brushing a leaf away that marred the ground. "They had too many words, so the stonemason wrote that".

His mother had already told her that he had been too ill for the funeral and she could only imagine what it might have felt like for him, knowing he could not say that proper goodbye to his brother.

"Did you always get on?" she asked, probing gently wondering whether she should be trying to coax him into talking.

"Yes" he replied resolutely. "He was always there. Mum used to call us 'Laurel and Hardy' although we never found who was who". She saw him smile and shake his head. "I wouldn't have had it any other way".

"There were so many times one hated one's brothers. They always seemed to be in the way, annoying, pestering little creatures. One supposes it ought not to take death to force you to appreciate what you have".

She saw him nod.

"I'd always wondered what he would look like now" he said, the picture in his mind of that last time they were photographed, in uniform, deliberately taken for their parents before they left. She had seen that photograph so proudly displayed on the mantelpiece of the house the very first time she visited.

"Whether he would have been married before me; had a family before me. I think that's why the words won't come. I see I have my wife and think we might have a family one of these days and I just wonder whether I would have been an uncle one day too. Between us I think we could have made Mum and Dad happy"

"They are happy, Peter. You don't realise how proud your Mum looks when she sees you in uniform".

"The last time we were in uniform, it was only by the grace of God that one of us came back. Mum used to say she could almost forgive him for sending me back and taking Philip but I never understood why". Camilla knew who 'him' was; a name she knew those men she treated herself would not utter through sheer hatred. "I think it was Mum's way of trying to cope - that she had one of us rather burying us both".

"The lesser of two evils" she whispered, understanding his mother's thoughts. She might have coped that way too.

"His legs were in pieces", he suddenly offered, the closest he could come to any description of his brothers injuries. He could not tell her he had seen it all; seen the explosion and ignoring the shouts ran towards where his brother was slumped against a wall, rambling in speech too overcome with pain and delirium to make any sense. He had held him close and told him that he would find the doctor and make him well again. He used to say that when Philip had crashed to his knees in the playground or projected himself over the handlebars of the second hand bicycle they shared. The doctor tended to be Mum and a bottle of iodine but he would always make sure the grazes and bruises healed.

"Do your Mum and Dad know you saw him?" she asked tentatively, thinking he might not tell her.

He was tracing the lines in the palm of her hand. Normally it might have tickled her into giggles but today this was not the place and she saw him shake his head. "They know we were in the same field Hospital for a few days. That's all they need to know".

He had toyed with telling them what he had seen. If he did he knew his mother would wish to know each minute detail and he knew it would break her heart even more than it had already been. Somehow it had been easier at first to keep it to himself, and now that almost fourteen years had passed it was not a subject that he could even think of broaching with her.

"When I was in Hospital, every time I closed my eyes, I either felt the fire on my uniform or saw Philip. It wasn't as though it was when he was dying - I would understand that because that was the last sight I had of him. It was from when we were kids; sitting on the top stair on Christmas Day opening our stockings so Mum and Dad could have an extra few minutes asleep. It always good things - playing tick, stuffing ourselves with Grandma's cakes or playing kiss chase with the girls next door".

The comment was ripe for a joke, some teasing, but she refrained. It was inappropriate.

"The part of the day I looked forward to was when the nurse would come with the morphine and it sent me to sleep so I might see him again". He took a breath. "I could cope with the nightmares about _me_ as long as there was a chance when I closed my eyes that he was there. I'd hoped that the morphine might just take me to him one day".

She stopped him as his fingers wound into hers. "Please don't say that" she whispered, knowing tears from her would not help him. She had heard it before, in those soldiers she cared for; wishing for death to take away the pain.

"I knew I was never free of it, but when he was there I would only see us as kids, running up and down the garden in Reeves Road or getting on the bus to go up to Belgravia to collect Mum from work". She saw him smile at the memory of when his Dad was too ill to go, the boys between them would do it. They didn't have to but they became the men of the house after their father's accident rendered him almost an invalide for most of their teenage years.

"I had had peace for years, but talking to your brother it was the gunpowder and the fires again".

He had talked to her about his own injuries before, but speaking to a man who had been there, who had seen what he had seen only served to trigger something buried deep in his subconscious. Telling his wife about his burns had been easy. When he told her she was in uniform, felt like he was talking to a nurse again who could not imagine what was rolling through his mind. He hadn't realised that he loved her then.

"That second nightmare I saw Philip again, except he was drenched in blood from head to foot, standing in front of me and I was stretching out my arm to him but I couldn't reach him. It was the first time I had seen him like that". He stopped, aware of the fact he had disturbed her that night. "I am sorry for kicking you".

She had woken has he had, feeling his leg strike out, rattling against her shin and it had frightened her. She simple shook her head, not feeling he needed to apologise.

"Dying in that hospital would have been... I _wanted_ to die in that hospital; hated being in Somerset recovering, didn't want Mum and Dad to have to look after me. Nobody understood that even the smell of bleach when Mum cleaned the kitchen floor would put me back there. The only person that would have understood would have been Philip and I didn't have him to talk to". He paused although he did not have to explain himself.

"That's why I always open the kitchen window when you mop the lino". She had noticed he did it and it made sense now that he would rather have a breeze whipping through the flat rather than breathe in the fumes.

Suddenly he straightened up as his sentences passed his voice had started to crack and she knew that he was very close to falling apart. His eyes were heavy and blank and it was almost as though he had said too much.

"I've got a purpose now. Joining the Police gave me something to concentrate on and now keeping a roof over your head and making sure you know I love you is the reason. You're my wife. We are going to be married for a very long time Camilla and I realise you must know".

She nodded gently. "As long as you trust me to tell me what you need to".

"Camilla", he said, turning slightly towards her, the first time he had held eye contact with her since they departed the church after the service. "I realised the moment I met you that I am alive now because I needed to find you to make me better. To be a better person".

'How ironic' she thought as he helped her to her feet. 'Me make you a better person?'

He had gone to work in the pouring down rain, somehow matching the grey of his mood. It had helped to talk to her, he had no way of denying that it had not, but there was still that ghost over his shoulders that he could not shake. The shift had passed unremarkably and on returning from his beat home he found a note.

_"Had to go in to answer the telephones for the night with Trixie being out with Ted as they are short. The Sisters won't let you stay. I love you. C"._

He pulled a face and pushed the note into his pocket before he quickly changed clothes and made his way to Nonnatus.


	25. Chapter 25

Nonnatus was quiet as Chummy took a duster to the low table in the sitting room. She was not meant to be here and not meant to be going out on calls, but the day and now the evening had been so busy that the extra pair of hands was more than necessary. She understood entirely why Sister Julienne had telephoned her.

As she knelt on the floor, spraying polish on the tabletop, it suddenly struck her that she did this most of the time at home, so why on earth was she dusting and polishing at work?

She did actually know why. It was to keep her mind off worrying about Peter and wondering what on earth Ted and Trixie were up to. Or rather, what Ted was up to and Trixie was having to deal with. She had not seen Trixie before she was collected by him but according to Jenny she had left dressed to the nines and full of the joys of spring.

Chummy stood up as the almost storm force winds and rain crashed against the windows high up above her head. 'Those poor girls all out in that' she thought, noticing that the fire had been cleaned but not laid. That would be her next job thinking a warm room would be most welcome to the weary travellers.

As she walked into the kitchen she saw Sister Bernadette heading towards her.

"Terrible night, do you not think?" the Sister said, rubbing her hands carefully together.

"Awful Sister" Chummy replied as she folded the duster back into the drawer and the polish was placed on the shelf.

"I have to say I am not looking forward to my next call!" the Sister continued as all of a sudden the bell rang and she turned tail to answer it. They were quite used to messages being delivered that Mrs So-and-So was in labour and 'could a midwife come' so a jangling doorbell was nothing new. A minute later she also heard the telephone being picked up by Sister Bernadette after she had answered the door, assuming the caller to the door was not seeking urgent help.

Opening the door of the storeroom, Chummy flicked on the light seeing the rain beat against the small window to her side. Picking up the pail she pulled open one of the sacks of coal that Fred had kindly collected for them earlier that day with every intention of ensuring the fire was lit and the sitting room warm for whoever came back that night.

As she leant down to lift up the full pail that she had collected she pretended not to hear him creep into the boiler room. He was obviously thinking he could surprise her, frighten her even, but of all things in the world she knew his walk.

His hands were within inches of her waist when she turned straight into his arms.

"Hello!" he said, surprised as he thought he had been quiet and a little disappointed that his devilish intention had been thwarted.

"Hello" she repeated.

"Sister Bernadette let me in. Is anyone else in?"

"Sister Evangelina is having a nap" his wife replied, having seen the Sister take herself off almost an hour ago.

"Good" he replied, sliding his hands further round her hips, leaning up to kiss her which she reciprocated for a moment until she realised.

"Stop it" she mumbled as he felt her hand on his cheek to gently push him away from her.

"I seem to think I am allowed to" he replied in his status as 'husband'.

"Not when there is a chance a Nun could appear around that doorway and not when you are soaked to the skin!" she replied, wriggling away.

The rain on the walk from the flat to Nonnatus had been by and large relentless and the umbrella he had taken was no match for the horizontal weather that tracked his journey. She was right though as he could feel water seeping into his clothes; coat, trouser legs and socks soaking.

"Can you pick up that bundle of wood for the fireplace?" she asked, nodding behind him. "Take off your shoes and socks as well and I will go and get the blow heater from underneath the stairs as the fire won't be warm for at least another half an hour!"

He reluctantly stepped away as she walked out of the storage room carrying the pail and he headed to the sitting room with the wares in his arms.

"Are you feeling better?" she said as she returned, handing him a pair of dry socks from the charity box. He saw a handful of newspapers folded under her arm too for the fire.

"A little bit drier, yes" he replied, having removed his own jacket, shoes and socks. Just the loss of wet clothes was assisting.

"No", she said, putting the pail and papers down before sitting down next to him. "After this morning".

He took her hand. "Not much, but I feel better that I at least told you".

She smiled feeling the tiniest of kisses just touch her lips.

"Oh! Sorry!" came a voice from their side.

"Cynthia, it's fine, don't worry" Chummy said, turning to her not expecting to see her for a good while yet. "You're back quick!"

"A very false alarm" she replied, smiling at them both. "Tea?"

"Yes please" Chummy replied.

She pulled the blow heater a little closer as he put on the socks. As she righted herself, the telephone rang again.

"What is wrong with this bally place tonight?" Chummy said getting up to answer it, whilst Cynthia prepared the tea - a cup of tea that she would lucky to have a sip or two past her lips if that was another delivery.

"I might even need to go out if this carries on" she mused as he saw her walk away to answer the telephone and then hearing information quickly exchanged between the two midwives as one departed Nonnatus again. She returned to his side, him having pulled the heater even closer to the sopping trouser legs.

"If we were at home" he started.

"You would be sitting there in your smalls" she observed.

"And rightly so" he finalised, smiling.

He watched her kneel on the floor to set the fire, ripping strips of newspaper to crush into rough balls.

"What would your mother think of you now?" he asked, feeling the heat buffer his trouser legs. It was half a question and half a tease.

"For sitting on the floor and getting covered in newsprint and coal dust?" she asked, holding up her ink stained hands as she rested on her heels. "She would flay me alive for even knowing how to set a fire, let alone crawling around on the floor and doing it myself!"

He arrived by her side, taking up a newspaper himself. "Peter, go and dry out!"

"No," he replied, as she saw him take a strip of paper himself. "I'm helping".

Between them they made swift work of the newspaper, setting the chopped wood at layers and angles in the grate and carefully adding the coal to the pile.

"So who were the girls next door you and Philip used to terrorise then?" She felt better about asking him about his 'kiss chase' comment now.

"Nancy and Violet. Dad used to tease us as we would always collect the girls from next door on a school day and walk up there with them and on a Saturday their Mum would take the four of us to the park".

"Do you know what happened to them?"

He nodded, starting to ignite the fire. "Philip and Nancy were stuck on each other for years and I always thought they might have got married after we came back. She married a GI in the end and went to live in America. I think Lettie went over shortly after too".

"So was Lettie your girl then?"

He smiled. "For a little while when we were about 9" he said, before looking up at her. "I never thought I would see brown eyes like Lettie had again".

"If you do stay here tonight, Sister Julienne will probably want you in one of the spare bedrooms. One is not sure whether a marriage certificate counts for her to change the rule of no men up those stairs" she replied, hearing the door open and footsteps walk into the kitchen before she could say anything else or get over the need that she had to kiss him at that exact moment.

"A most wonderful notion Nurse" Sister Julienne said seeing the fire, before removing her sodden coat as she walked towards them. "Such a distressing night!" she continued, interrupted only by an almighty banging on the front door and frantic ringing of the bell.

The three shot a glance at each other and Peter, being the only man in the building and with protective instincts rising, went to answer it opening the door carefully.

"Sorry there, old friend!" Ted announced as he and Trixie bundled themselves over the threshold. "Touch on the heavy handed side with the knock!"

Behind him Peter could almost feel the sigh of relief from Sister Julienne and his wife that it was simply two people wishing to enter as opposed to some emergency. Trixie stood, her coat still over her head, a curl of blonde hair hanging loosely over her forehead as the Sister noted how pink cheeked she was from what had clearly been a run to Nonnatus.

Chummy looked to her brother as the Sister guided Trixie to the warmth of the fire and her husband followed. Ted could see the hesitance to ask in his sister's eyes.

"We had a most pleasant tea, went for a walk in Regent's Park and when the heavens decided to open we took the bus", he said matter-of-factly before taking a seat at the kitchen table.

"Are you going to ask her again?" she replied, starting to make a second round of tea.

"One cannot say one has decided. She was entertaining company, but…." he drifted off, waving a hand almost to dismiss the question. The only thing that Chummy had in her mind was to protect her friend from being hurt.

"She is a lovely creature but I have no intentions of having a wife from around these parts if I ever have a wife at all".

Ted saw a flash of something across his Sister's face and took it as hurt. "I do appreciate that you have found what makes you happy here and I can see he is doing his best for you and for that reason, I disagree vehemently with Mother. Ted Browne might be partial to a pretty face but a pretty face does not a gainful life make".

Despite the way it which it had been worded, she understood his logic perfectly. Any other girl she might not have cared.

"One will pass on tea though Sissy" he said suddenly standing up, "Must ask the Sister if I can use the telephone to get the driver back here".

She watched him walk into the sitting, shaking her husband by the hand as he exchanged goodbyes. As Trixie walked with him, she smiled almost serenely at Chummy as they chatted away on their trip to the door.

Sighing she took up the tray of cups and walked into the sitting room where her husband and Sister Julienne were deep in conversation.

"I do appreciate that I am applying a rather elasticated view Nurse but I have just suggested to Constable Noakes that he may wish to stay here tonight with you to save him from another drowning at the hands of the weather as it is so late", Sister Julienne said. "You are married now and well frankly, Nonnatus has never had a married couple living under its roof, so I believe I have little grounds to separate you".

They both nodded and hours later, when Nonnatus had quietened its doors, they both hoped that sleep tonight would be restful and undisturbed.

For the one night it was and they were thankful.


	26. Chapter 26

The telephone message, written in Cynthia's cursive script, taken from her mother panicked her the moment it was handed to her and her stomach twisted as she read each line. She had already been nursing a headache that morning and had barely been able to eat a scrap of the sandwiches that Mrs B had made for lunch. Whilst she had slept better, there was still something nagging away at her that she could not place as anything more than fear. The past two nights they had both slept fitfully again although she knew full well that a single word or trigger could send him back to there and her only wish was to ensure that she was there to help him when it did.

"Blast it! Calm down, Chummy!" She whispered to no-one in particular, cold anxious fingers clumsily attempting to affix the catch of the pack on her bicycle. "It's only a buckle! Come on you silly girl, what's wrong with you?"

So engrossed in what ought to have been a simple task she failed to hear the crunch of shoes behind her.

"Talking to yourself will get you put the funny farm you know". She jumped at Trixie's voice, turning quickly almost sending the maternity pack flying.

"Here…" Trixie said as she removed nervous hands, before fixing the buckle in a trice.

"Thank you", she whispered, smoothing down the leather.

"Are you alright?" Trixie asked, noticing the agitation and worry in her friend's face. "Did you get your message?"

"Yes and it makes me rather not look forward to tomorrow" she replied. "One has been summoned to Knightsbridge as Pa has arrived".

"Well Peter will be with you so it will be fine" Trixie replied, relatively assured that Peter would see to it that he was there.

"No he won't" Chummy said sadly. "Strictly on one's own".

Trixie frowned and ran her hand down her friend's arm, rubbing gently in comfort. "You know if she turns up here, us girls will be out in force. _He_ loves you and _we_ love you, remember that".

Chummy nodded although she was finding it increasingly difficult to rationalise anything any more. She knew the day had been coming ever since Bob had mentioned the visit but now it was here, knowing she had not seen her father for a very long time, it was all too difficult to contemplate. She ought to have been sure of what her father's reaction would be, knowing that if their relationship had been anything like it ought to have been normally she could have expected either anger or acceptance. Unfortunately, she had no idea which one she would face. Lord knows what Mater had been telling him.

"Where are you going to?" Trixie asked.

"Tenements on Mary Street. Mrs Anderson" she replied, turning her bicycle.

"You'll have to go the long way round then. There's a lorry broken down and they have closed Leece Street….." Trixie offered as she rolled her bicycle into the shed seeing her friend roll her eyes.

"Oh Trixie?" Chummy replied, about to ride away. "Sister Julienne has taken Ronnie down to the clinic so she said can you make sure that the rotas for this weeks night calls are put on the board?"

"Consider it done!" Trixie sang as she closed the door to Nonnatus behind her. As she pressed forth with her now somewhat complicated trip to Mrs Anderson, Chummy decided that she was going to concentrate on one thing at a time and try and think about her father tomorrow.

Lady Browne paced, not seeing the occasional glances of her husband over his newspaper. He had arrived from Ireland a day early, called to London by business activities that Lady Browne tended not to become involved in and he had arrived at the flat to find his son and daughter in law absent and his wife striding up and down the sitting room.

She turned on the carpet. She had been thinking it over intensely these past few days knowing that Wednesday was to come. If anything made her blood boil more it was her wilful, youngest child, hell bent on shaming her. Why did the child have to be so discordant? Fury raged through her mother's veins as she contemplated the situation. She had considered acceptance of her daughter's choice but the prospect rankled more than anything she could ever think of.

"All the effort, money! For this!" she muttered to herself.

"Pardon dear?" her husband replied, folding his newspaper down, knowing that the whirlwind of fury was not going to settle any time soon.

"The child Rex! Everything we ever did for her she has thrown back at us in the most ungrateful manner possible. Why she could not be like the boys? They are good boys - each one of them married well".

"Our daughters in law are lovely gals, I will give you that" he replied. "You chose well".

"A policeman though. A Policeman! And one from the East End of London; not even Chelsea!" She was becoming more exasperated by the second.

Sir Rex Browne took a breath. "Think of it this way, Frances. The child is married and she is his responsibility. Even if he is police officer, we need not provide for her and it could be such a worse outcome especially with her being in the East End! It could have been a labourer or one of those dockers! At least it is a healthy profession".

"I believe his father is a docker. Or a retired one at that" his wife replied, distain heavy in her voice wondering why her husband even found the prospect remotely acceptable.

"That reminds me" he said, suddenly remembering. "How did you fare with your questions?"

"It seems there was a fiancée before he went away to War but otherwise entirely unremarkable" she replied, finally taking a seat opposite him. The trip that she had taken to the East End rendered little to alter her opinion of the place and if anything exposed her to an altogether seedier impression than she had first invisaged. The enquiries she had also made came to little and she had been relieved in one sense, but also finding nothing that she would find savoury either.

"Do you believe she knows of the fiancée?" he asked.

"I intend to find out, Rex. I really do intend to find out".

"Well, whatever the outcome she is off our hands Frances!" he replied, taking up his newspaper again.

"That's not the point. There is no reason why she could not learn to love someone of our choosing. Our parents did that for us".

"Times change, Frances. She is of majority. There is nothing we can do no matter how much we dislike the prospect of stock blood in the family. You have seen yourself that her mind has been turned". He saw his wife nod.

"She knows that my blessing to the union is not forthcoming and never will be and I will not tolerate a divorce either".

"It seems therefore my dear that we are at a crossroads with our decision. I had wondered whether one ought to speak to him alone" her father mused. "Rather than we have a supper alone with her that I speak to him tomorrow instead, perhaps? I have daughter who married without my permission and a son in law who did not seek to ask for it. I think perhaps you ought to cancel supper tomorrow and I will arrange to meet him first".

"Of course dear" her mother responded. "If you feel that might be the most appropriate way forward".

"I do" he replied. "In fact, I will telephone now".

Once again it was Cynthia who carefully wrote down the message, utterly surprised to hear her friend's father's voice remembering to tell Chummy quietly the moment she had the chance. Tucking the note into her pocket she saw Sister Evangelina setting the table.

"Sister have you seen Chummy anywhere?"

"Still with Mrs Anderson, I believe" the Sister replied, glancing quickly at the clock.

"Is Veronica still here?" Cynthia asked, rather looking forward to her company again for tea.

"Full of questions, Nurse Miller! But yes, she was exhausted after all her exertions this afternoon" Sister Evangelina said, Cynthia picking up on the sarcasm in her voice, making it more than clear that the Sister had little time for tiredness after only an afternoon of observing everybody else work in the clinic.

"She is in Nurse Noakes' old room. Perhaps you would go up to her and tell her tea will be ready shortly".

"Yes Sister" Cythina replied meekly.

Veronica heard the knock on the door and swallowed quickly, dabbing away the tears that were threatening to form in her eyes.

"Hello?"

"Tea is nearly ready" Cynthia said, opening the door.

"You are all so wonderful to me" Veronica replied, turning her legs sideways to sit up out of bed.

"Veronica you look awfully pale", Cynthia commented, seeing how white her skin was.

"One feels awfully pale," she replied. "I have to admit that one is in awe of each and every one of you for all you do!" Veronica joked. "I have had rather and long and exhausting time of it and I am afraid it rather plays away with my emotions these days!"

"As long as it is simply tiredness?" Cynthia asked, worried.

"Oh yes! Just tiredness. Tea will perk me up beyond measure!" She stood up and straightened her dress as they walked together out of the room.

"Did I hear Chummy say you were going back to Scotland on Thursday?"


	27. Chapter 27

She lay in the dark, covers pulled up to her neck, trying desperately to sink as far as she could into the mattress. She had telephoned her father dutifully on receipt of the message and simply, desperately, just wanted to be at home, hiding in the darkness under the bedcovers. It was the only place she felt safe.

"Camilla? Are you in?" came a voice from the hallway.

He had come home to find the flat in darkness; this time with no notes to tell him she was at Nonnatus or anywhere else in fact. Quietly he crept into the bedroom to see what he thought was her sleeping form, her back to the door as she was curled tightly under the sheets.

His wedding suit lay over the back of a chair and for a moment he was curious. Smiling he placed his hand on the shoulder of the jacket as his rather vivid memories of that day came to mind, gently brushing a piece of fluff from the stripes. She must have been awake as he heard her sit up, putting his hand on the light switch ready to turn it on.

"Peter, don't" she pleaded. "I've had such a sore head all day that one simply cannot shift".

He withdrew his hand from the light switch and went to sit by her on the edge of the bed.

"Can you tolerate a kiss?" he asked quietly.

"I can". He could see her eyes were heavy and she was struggling in even in the minimal light that pervaded through curtains as he leant across, gently brushing his hand down her arm as it lay across her knees.

"Have you taken any aspirin?" he asked.

"Yes", she replied, except it had not touched the stabbing, slicing pain one iota.

"Peter?" she asked, seeing him occupied in brushing her skin.

"Hmm?"

"Mater cancelled supper with me tomorrow". She realised she sounded petrified.

"And that is a terrible thing?" he asked, still caressing the smooth skin of her arm with his fingertips. She might have been able to nod that it was if the pain in her head would let her.

"What shift are you on tomorrow?" she asked thinking she knew the answer already if her responses to her father that afternoon had been anything to go by.

"An early" he replied, quite looking forward to the short shift. "7 until 2 in the afternoon"

"I thought so" she replied pausing, wondering how he would react to her news. "Peter, Pa wants to meet you instead. At the Astoria at 4".

"The West End?" he replied, surprised. "Us together?"

"No, you on your own".

Peter just nodded and understood immediately why she was so low. He knew he had joked about finally meeting his father in law but it would seem that it was now reality.

"Is that why my wedding suit is out?"

"One thought one had best air it" she replied as he heard a sigh in her voice. "Pa was always fairer on me that Mater" she continued suddenly, wanting him desperately to know that she hoped he would not have to face the same stony faced inquisition as he had before.

As he left her the next morning for work, knowing she would be in clinic when he was on the way to the West End, he kissed her repeatedly trying to reassure her that it would not be as worrying as she thought.

He took the bus, alighting at an earlier stop than he perhaps would have normally. As he walked past the Courts of Justice he saw the gutted skeleton of St Clement's Church sitting on its island in the middle of the road. He saw its imposing form across from where he was walking, the bullet holes from when it had been caught in the storm of the War stared at him, peppering and marring its pale stone.

In front of him as he continued to walk, choosing not to dwell at the sight, was the imposing frame of the Astoria with its lights gleaming from every window as the afternoon was on the verge of drifting into dusk.

He spotted the cufflinks straight away as he stepped into the vast reception of the Astoria, receiving a curt nod from the doorman, expecting to be inspected. One thing he always noticed was detail – he had to. That one description of somebody's tie or a watch someone was wearing could have made all the difference in a court room – and those cufflinks shone. They were the ones Camilla described perfectly.

_"He always wears them - diamond cut, solid gold and he twists them when he is standing waiting for anything. One thinks it's a habit"._

Nervous habit? Peter didn't think so as he walked towards the man, dressed in a dark grey suit, as he turned towards him.

"Peter Noakes one presumes?" the white haired figure asked, a hand outstretched.

"A pleasure to meet you Sir", he said, extending his hand. Peter had thought of adding 'at last' but refrained. His companion clicked his fingers and a waiter appeared from behind as they were shown into the bar; its dark oak panelling polished and gleaming, as they were guided by through by the waiter to the conservatory at the back. It was temporarily absent of diners.

"One trusts that you do not object to retiring to the conservatory but one rather felt that bearing in mind what is to be the subject of our discussions, that it was done in private". Rex Browne was firm in his view that he did not wish to converse with his son in law about his daughter in public. There were questions needed to be asked, perhaps in a more conducive way man to man.

Peter shook his head as he settled in his seat.

"No, Sir. I think it's best".

They both sat, opposite each other and trickle of other people barely taking notice of them passed by. The table was immaculate – a white table cloth and gleaming silver cutlery; glasses you could see your reflection in. All this excess made him uncomfortable, sitting on a seat that probably cost more than his entire year's wages.

"One is told you are a police officer?" his father in law said, shaking the napkin from the table to his lap.

"Yes, that's correct" Peter replied, wondering if he should elaborate but refrained for now.

"And there are chances of improving yourself?" Despite his misgivings his daughter was tied to this man now and whilst he had been plainspoken with his own wife that no more money would be forthcoming, he would still rather his daughter be free from worry.

"I plan to do my sergeant's examinations next year and after that, well, I do intend to continue up the ladder as far as I can".

He saw his father in law nod; digesting the information.

"So it is very possible that one day my daughter might be married to a Commander of the Metropolitan Police?"

Commander might have been out of his reach, but he had always felt that Chief Inspector Noakes had a rather interesting ring to it.

"I would like to take my career as far as I can", he concluded, taking sip of tea. Her father nodded again. Usually Peter could read people relatively well; in his job he had to, but he was struggling with Sir Rex Browne. Despite how friendly his brothers in law had been, they were a different generation and if her mother was anything to go by, her father would be somewhat difficult too.

"So how did you meet my daughter? My wife was…" Rex Browne paused, searching for the word. _"Vague"._

"She er…I was on duty and she knocked me over whilst she was learning to ride a bicycle". As time passed, and as he had got to know his wife, he had started to see the funny, ridiculous side of their first meeting. He was still relieved though that neither of them came to any more harm than an arrow to the heart.

He saw his father in law's eyebrow raise. "Do I presume she escaped charges?"

"Yes, Sir. It was an accident".

"Injuries?" he asked.

"Bruises, but nothing that did not mend quickly".

His father in law nodded again. "She was always the one to have accidents" he mused, curious as to what might have been traversing his daughter's mind to take herself up with someone she had almost caused serious harm to. It also struck him that perhaps it had been rather fortunate that this Police Officer had seemingly chosen not to charge her. It would have been beyond all comprehension and perhaps beyond all redemption if she were to have gained a criminal record. That would have been the absolute limit.

"So where is my daughter today?" he asked.

"Camilla is in clinic this afternoon", Peter replied, although knowing by now she was probably drinking tea too as they cleaned up afterwards.

"You call her Camilla" her father noted, surprised.

"Yes" Peter replied, having no intention of explaining the quite base reasons why he did not call her by her childhood nickname.

"Only her mother calls her Camilla" he continued, realising it was probably the only thing that his man and his mother in law had in common. "Chummy was my moniker for the girl. She used to follow me around like a shadow before she went off to school, sitting under my desk and pretending to read my journals". For the first time Peter saw his father in law smile.

"Her mother was always somewhat harsh with her, but it was not my place to interfere in my wife's plans for our children. Particularly for the girl". He paused and Peter let him continue. "One could well talk to my sons of cricket and of Winchester as it was something one had experienced oneself. The girl, however…" he waved his hand. "Her mother saw to her".

It struck Peter as odd that his only daughter seemed to be set aside in her own father's eyes. One day if they had a little girl, he had every intention she could be throwing cricket balls if she wanted to or dressing in as many frills and laces as she wished to too.

"Do you respect her?" The question was blunt and a far cry from the slight crack in his father in law's façade that he had seen when he was talking about his daughter as a youngster.

"Yes, I do. Very much so"

He saw a slight change in his father in law's face again. "One always believes that when you marry, whether you are husband or wife, that respect ought to be held in the highest threshold. One believes that as long as one knows ones boundaries within a marriage that is what makes it successful".

Peter nodded. He agreed to a point. The difficulty was he also did not see why his wife should be somehow insubordinate to him. He knew where his apparent tolerance had come from - his own mother's strong voice and the example he had been given of marriage by his own parents. The circles that encompassed his in law's was quite different from a two up two down in Poplar, but if he and Camilla could have a marriage like his parents, then he would be a satisfied man.

He quite liked it when she was cheeky to him, passing him occasionally whilst he was on his beat with a cheery wave as she sped along the road and that he did not mind one bit to make the occasional supper. He knew their relationship from the very first day they met had been out of the norm.

"And there is no need to call me Sir. Whilst one might have gained the honour, one does not believe that you should wedge it down other people's throats for simply doing your job".

Peter nodded. He had been calling him 'Sir' out of respect rather than the existence of his title.

"Now I think my wife has been more than clear to you and to her that her forming this attachment was not what we had intended for her".

"Yes, Camilla and me are…."

"Aware?"

Peter nodded, waiting for the bluntness to come.

"But one must say that my sons speak highly of you. For that reason alone I come into this in a slightly better frame of mind about my daughter's decision. I spoke to Bob for some length this morning and he has been nothing but complimentary for the way to you treat my daughter and I trust my son in his judgment. Whilst one cannot say that one is overjoyed she married as she did, one thing one always wants for my only daughter is that she be happy. One bites ones tongue on occasion when my wife receives a letter from the girl, but one has to support one's wife as I imagine you will be supporting my daughter"

"Yes" Peter replied, for the first time dropping the 'Sir'. "For the rest of my life if she will let me".

"One thinks", his father in law said, "that it will be quite the rare event, as it has sadly been already, that my daughter and I will be in each other's company. One cannot recall the last time that I set eyes on her".

"Do you plan to visit her?" He asked, knowing that if he was, she would perhaps need time.

"No,but not for lack of want" his father in law replied. "This particular trip to London was most unexpected so my diary has suddenly filled. Her mother and I will be returning to London in the New Year before we return to the island. One feels that that will be a significant opportunity, do you not think?"

"I will tell her" Peter replied.

"Good. So tell me of your job, Peter. How does a constable conduct his life?"


	28. Chapter 28

"Nurse Noakes!" Sister Evangelina announced, pushing a glass of water and two pills towards Chummy, who was seated at the kitchen table, head in hands; her glasses discarded to one side.

"That look on your face is making us all miserable. Take those and it may clear your headache".

"What are they Sister?" Chummy asked, taking the two white pills from table.

"Phenacetin", the Sister announced taking up the kettle. "Strong enough to kill an ox if you take too many!"

Chummy took the tablets and water, swallowing carefully and not particularly feeling in the mood to appreciate the joke. She did not really want to take a drug that was partly barbiturate but she was to the point where desperation was taking precedence.

"Did you finish the rota on the board?" she was asked, hearing the clink of cup on saucer.

"Yes Sister" Chummy replied, setting the glass down.

Sister Evangelina had taken pity on the nurse seeing how pale she looked; knowing from Sister Julienne that her distress was entirely due to her familial circumstances. Sister Evangelina had met Lady Browne at the wedding reception and had bitten her tongue; mind thinking things that her mouth ought not to commit to, particularly as she was a woman of the cloth.

"Could you start preparing the medication audit as well nurse?"

"Yes Sister".

As much as she knew that Sister Evangelina could be difficult with her, she could well have sent her to clinic with squalling children running wild, lifting and carrying, but instead she stayed warm inside Nonnatus. She was relieved with this opportunity whilst the building was still that she may be able to shake this pain in her head and the low level of nausea that had settled in her stomach. Chummy had been quite used, over the years, to anxiety manifesting itself in headaches, a queasy stomach and broken sleep so it was nothing new. She still felt entirely awful in the process and as much as she should not be relieved, she would hope to be a better frame of mind when her parents had left.

She knew that if she was a good daughter she should not wish her parents away, however they seemed most reluctant to engage with her and her father's absolute absence since the wedding was a story in itself. She understood why he might want to speak to Peter but to not even want to see your daughter in the process? This headache had developed from worry and simply not knowing how Peter's visit had gone was sending her mind into a swirl, thinking all sorts of terrible thoughts.

She took up her glasses again as Sister Evangelina walked towards the ringing telephone, her face a picture of frustration at the interruption.

He didn't creep up on her this time. He knew she was nervy, knew she might jump so he stood by the door to the dining room, seeing her with papers and even more papers laid out in front of her. She was engrossed, talking to herself as she worked her way through the lists in front of her.

Peter cleared his throat and saw her turn immediately, an expectant look on her face.

"It went perfectly fine" he said, walking across to take up a seat next to her, taking her hand immediately in reassurance.

"Are you sure?" she asked, knowing that her face would perhaps crumble if there was one word of her husband being in distress.

"Absolutely. He didn't say anything we didn't already know. He just asked me about the job and about Poplar".

"And?" she asked, entirely unconvinced that he was asked about his job alone. She knew he would have faced more probing questions than that.

"He asked what I intended to do in the future".

"Chief Inspector Noakes" she interrupted smiling.

"If I can help it. He asked how we met and whether I respected you". He stopped, bringing the back of her hand to his lips. "And I do".

"Did he ask about me?"

It struck him for the first time that her father had indeed he had not asked after her in more than the most basic of terms and he already knew that she had not had a letter from him in a long while. He had wanted to go into this meeting with his father in law wanting to find out something about the man; questioning why any father would as good as abandon his child, but he had learnt very little. He hoped, however that he had made at least a decent impression and he had been comforted by the fact that her father had been at least civil to him.

"He said that he had not seen you for long time".

She nodded as much as her sore head would let her. He quickly changed the subject as he knew he had nothing more to say in that respect.

"Your Dad said that Ronnie and Bob were going to call in tomorrow before they left for Scotland. To say goodbye". She saw him frown. "Camilla, you do know they are coming back to London in the New Year?"

"Yes. Ronnie said a few days ago. It's her nephew's birthday on New Year's Day and she was going to visit him in Wimbledon".

"No. Camilla your Mum and Dad are coming back to London" he responded, slowly.

"Are they?" she asked quietly. Part of her wanted to see her father and part of her dreaded it.

"He said so. They are travelling to Ireland on Friday and will be back two days after New Year".

"Oh" she replied. It was more a sigh than an expression. Even though they had only been married barely a few weeks, he could already see the changes in her demeanour. Her face had dropped.

"What can he, they, do to us?" Peter said, squeezing her hand. "Really? It's too late to stop a wedding".

She nodded gently.

"Yes I know".

"You are here now and I am not going to let them take you away from here. Emotionally _or_ physically".

She smiled knowing it was the truth and now, feeling the strength that he gave her, knew what choices she would make if her hand was forced.

"Has your headache gone?" he asked, curling a loose lock of hair around her ear.

"Not really but its better".

"But otherwise everything's 'tickety-boo'?" he asked, catching her eye.

"And splendid", she replied quietly. "As long as it really went alright with Pa?" She had to ask again.

"It did. I assure you".

It pleased her, and perhaps more so comforted her, that he was chipper. Even though she had a sneaking suspicion he might have glorified his encounter with her father to assuage her fears, she also knew he would not lie to her and she had to trust him.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" she asked. "One thinks one needs a break".

He shook his head. "I only came in to see if you were here and tell you to save you worrying all night. The beat calls me" he concluded as she twisted one of the buttons on his tunic.

She nodded and smiled. "What time will you be in tonight?"

"Seven" he said, "In the morning" he added quickly.

"Really?"

"Fletch has called as his wife is ill and he said he will do tomorrow's night shift for me if I cover him tonight". The opportunity for almost two days to himself was a marvellous idea and he had what you might say was a surprise at hand for her that would take a day or two to engineer.

"I might stay here then. One has felt so guilty that this blasted headache has rendered me useless for most of the day and I might be able to take a call or two tonight"

"Well if you are going to be here tonight, I'll probably see more of you when I nip in for a bit of a warm at midnight".

She knew his version of a 'bit of a warm' and it would be entirely inappropriate behaviour for the roof of a convent.

"I might think about letting you have five minutes in front of the fire" she replied, having no intention of watching the clock if he did indeed arrive.

"I would hope so". He kissed on her the cheek before standing up, knowing she was joking.

"I'll walk with you to the door", she said, in need of that cup of tea and to stretch her back and legs.

As she stood, the room spun for a second and she gripped his hand.

"Are you sure you are alright?" he asked, concern deep in his voice.

"Yes" she breathed. "This blasted headache is feeling more like a migraine". She had not had a migraine for years. The last one was days before her final examinations and brought on by worry and the most negative form of anticipation she could think of.

"Should I take you home?" he asked, more than willing to.

"No. I'll have a nap upstairs later" she replied, walking with him on his arm to the door.

"Peter".

"Hmmm?" he said turning as he pushed open the door to Nonnatus.

"I went for a walk before for some fresh air. I went to see Philip."

"He'd like that" he replied. His brother had always been the more social of the two; Peter having that element of reserve that he had inherited from their father. Peter knew in his heart of hearts that his brother would approve of his choice of wife.

"The flower pot had fallen over so I straightened it and put some artificial flowers down" she continued. "They may survive the weather better".

"I don't mind Camilla if you go; you don't have to have my permission". She felt his hand snake up to cradle her cheek. "I am not going to shout at you".

"But your Mum might object".

"Then I will tell her it was you although I know she won't. She won't be going to the grave until at least Saturday now anyway".

"One just doesn't want to upset her". She was so afraid of upsetting him and his parents, knowing how he felt, knowing how he was now opening up about his experiences to her. She did not want him to think that she was overstepping what was a very sensitive line. Having spent most of her life petrified of upsetting anyone these were three people that she desperately wanted to love her.

"You are my family, Camilla, regardless of what your Mum and Dad might think and if you want to visit your brother in law's grave, you can".

She smiled and received a kiss.

"Go and have your nap and I will pop back as close as I can to midnight"


	29. Chapter 29

Chummy had said goodbye to Ronnie and Bob and had made her way home; Bob already having announced that he had telephoned the flat and said goodbye to her husband already. She had been upset that they were going and the whole of Nonnatus turned out to wish them well on their journey with them both promising they would visit again.

"We will be back in the New Year" Ronnie had announced as they said their 'goodbyes'. "You have all been so lovely!" She had whispered to Chummy - promised in fact - just before they departed that on the next visit from Australia that she would bring the girls. Chummy had smiled and waved and bitten back tears with so many memories of simply saying goodbye over the years. There were never many 'hellos' it seemed any more.

Returning home she found him asleep in his chair and smiled. Apart from those two nights, he had slept relatively peacefully since he had started to tell her about his brother or at least he had not told her of any interrupted sleep. She wondered exactly how long he had been slumbering and whether it had been the entirety of the afternoon that he had spent slumped in a chair, up to little and nothing.

Quietly she took off her coat and turning to put it over the back of a chair she saw the small Christmas tree on the table decorated perfectly apart from a white box to its side. 'So that was what he must have been up to' she thought, immediately retracting her defamatory statement. She had been too busy to think of Christmas itself, the tree at Nonnatus already bursting at the seams with home made decorations, but for a flat this small a big tree might just overwhelm them.

She crept over to it, running the palm of her hand gently down the fir, the yellow baubles twisting in the low light as she smelt the crisp odour as it permeated from the disrupted branches. How he had found such a tiny, but real, tree she could never imagine.

Chummy opened the box carefully to find an angel for the tree, not daring to take the exquisitely dressed figure from its resting place.

"I left her for you" he said, having been woken to see her standing in front of the tree.

"Where did she come from?" she asked, continuing to watch the glinting in front of her as she twirled another bauble in the light, seeing the silver and yellow sparkle.

"Mum. The lady she chars for by Regents Park gave it to her, but Mum always has to have a star not an angel". She felt his arms slide around her waist. "She thought you might like her".

"She's beautiful. Remind me to telephone your mum to thank her".

"I will. I erm...I spoke to her about the grave as well" he said, leaning his chin on her shoulder. "She did not mind at all that you put flowers on".

She smiled, pleased and relieved. She knew deep down that his mother would not object, but being so used to being wrong even when she tried to be right affected her ability to rationalise from time to time.

"Did you find your shifts for Christmas?" she asked, resting her arms on his.

"Christmas Eve day and Boxing Day day. You?"

"Christmas Eve day and Christmas night. Sorry" she quickly added.

"Well at least we'll have Christmas Day". He was one for always looking on the bright side and she was quite pleased that they would at least have the day together.

"I tried to change it but we're going to be short on Christmas night. The sisters going to Chichester".

"It's alright. I might just come down to Nonnatus and torment you for a few hours on Christmas night then after we've been to Mums if the adults are away".

"Or sleep off Christmas Dinner in the sitting room!" she said, turning slightly to kiss his temple.

"That as well" he replied, as though it was the most obvious response in the world. "I was thinking," he continued, "that we will have a lovely Christmas without worrying about what your Mum and Dad think and then if we have to, deal with them in the New Year".

She squeezed the hand that was rested on her stomach, somehow not knowing how to respond, and slithered out of his arms. He ducked his head slightly as she walked away. He had hoped to encourage her into talking just to help her but he reflected it was perhaps a little 'bull in a china shop' than 'softly softly catchee monkey'.

"We are going to my parents?" he asked as he followed her to the kitchen suddenly realising it was an assumption on his part that they would spend their day at Reeves Road.

"Well, it's either there or here just us," she replied, taking out plates from the cupboard. "It's not as though I have anywhere special to go with my family. Nobody will be here and one doubts one would be invited anyway". She could be so matter of fact about the fractured relationship she had with her parents sometimes and it killed him to see her be so blase about it.

"Camilla" he started, before she interrupted him.

"It's true, Peter. I was thinking about it" she said, continuing to remove cutlery from the drawer around him, making herself busy to stop herself thinking even more horrific thoughts than she had already. "I know Bob and Ronnie have gone up to Scotland but Mater and Pa are with my _aunt. _It's a train ride to Liverpool and then a boat. It's hardly 'Scott of the Antarctic'. Did you know Ted is going with them?"

Peter shook his head and understood perfectly now why it had been on her mind.

"Well" he said, seeing the two knives and two forks from her hands, "you never know in the next couple of years we might be heading for a proper family Christmas of our own if we are lucky and we can invite who we like".

"Yes", she replied, scared yet full of anticipation that knowing one day that there would be a bigger Christmas tree and presents surrounding it for a child or two.

"When do you need to leave for your shift?" she asked.

"In an hour".

"Do you want me to make you some dinner before you go?"

"I think you've started already!" he teased, as she realised she had been unconsciously setting the table as she talked. He saw a genuine smile.

"And one does suppose that now the table has been set its _far too late_ to retract my offer?"

"Entirely! So hurry up!" She cursed him under her breath. Mind you, she then thought, she could be married to a man would would have been entirely serious about having his dinner on the table at his demand.

"I'll go and have a wash and will get changed after dinner". He walked across from where he had been seated at the kitchen table, placing his hands on her hips and kissed her on the cheek, leaving her to prepare their dinner.

"Two vests?" she enquired, walking in to the bedroom to find him getting ready to leave for his night shift, dinner consumed and dishes washed.

"You aren't walking around the streets of London in the middle of the night!" he replied, pulling the second vest over his head.

"That's true" she replied, walking past him running a hand down his arm, fingertips smoothing over what scar was visible on his shoulder. He still couldn't feel her touch, but somehow now, after years of not wanting to feel, not wanting to explain, it did not concern him if she touched the scar on his shoulder. It also felt easier that now she knew and would know even more once his heart would let him tell her. Only her questions seemed welcome and with too many memories of pain and being poked and prodded by doctors and nurses, the touch of 'his' nurse was something else and something he did not wish away.

He turned to where she was rolling up socks.

"Worry when I start wearing two pairs of socks and underpants as well; that's when it's really winter!" She laughed as he pinched a pair of socks from her hands, warm from the radiator, and sat down on the bed.

"Camilla" he said. "I know I assumed we would go to my parents, but if you want to have Christmas Day just us, say so". She turned in her seat.

"No. I'd like to have my first Christmas in Poplar with your parents, so we are going".

It was her first Christmas in the place she now considered would be her home for as long it as it would have her and she could not think of a more ideal place.

"Your wish is my command" he replied as he continued to dress around where she was sitting.

"Have you spoken to Ted in the last few days?" she asked, having not seen her brother at all since last Sunday and his return from his 'date' with Trixie, who she might add to herself, had been full of the joys of spring these past few days.

"No" he replied. "Why?"

"Nothing really", she replied. "Just that Trixie said he was taking her to a club somewhere in the West End tonight".

"And?" he responded, pulling his braces over his shoulder.

"One just doesn't want her to get her hopes up. Even if he comes back to London from Ireland he will have found another pretty face over there".

"Camilla, don't worry about her. Or him. They are adults".

"Yes but..." she started before she felt his lips pressed to hers to silence her. "But nothing" he replied. "They are old enough to decide. You decided,didn't you?"

She had to admit defeat as he had a very good point.


	30. Chapter 30

There was something in the air as Cynthia and Sister Bernadette rode along the West Ferry Road. The breeze from the water was adding more to the chill and the hairs on their arms were standing tall as goose bumps littered their skin. It was that unmistakable feeling - that crispness and anticipation in the air - that meant that Christmas was very briefly around the corner.

"So what time did Nurse Franklin arrive home last night?" the Sister asked, knowing of her acquaintance with Ted Browne and the flutter that tended to settle in Nonnatus when he had collected her yesterday.

"Ten o'clock on the dot Sister", Cynthia replied, knowing and respecting Sister Julienne's request that her nurses were to be returned from dates no later than then. It had only been Chummy that it had applied to in quite some time since a certain Constable fell into her life, but now with the presence of her brother it extended to Trixie.

Sister Bernadette nodded. It was a joy to see these girls setting out on life, forging paths for themselves. She enjoyed their company, girls not very much younger than she was, but having made such a different choice for themselves all those years ago. It had often been the case that she had wondered what her life would have been like if she had made that alternative a reality some years previously. Still, she thought, it is far too late for that now to think of things like a husband or children so perhaps she would have to satisfy her maternal instinct when a Noakes or two was bouncing his or her way down the corridors of Nonnatus.

"Did you pass Nurse Noakes her message?" the Sister asked as they turned onto the main road.

Once again, Cynthia had been the (un)lucky one who had answered the telephone to one of Chummy's parents and each time had to impart that once again they would not be paying her a visit.

"I did" Cynthia said, a note of sadness in her voice. "Chummy said she didn't really expect any different".

They were both commuted to silence for a moment. How they both wished to help in some manner or other, but both realised that the vast gulf that seemed to have dug its depth between Chummy and her parents would take more than a tea party or two to mend.

"But at least we all have tonight to look forward to" Cynthia offered suddenly in an attempt to start a conversation again, moving away from that desperate helplessness they all felt.

"Of course!" the Sister replied. "Do you know Nurse that today has been so very busy that I almost forgot!"

It was an early Christmas. A thought from Sister Julienne as she knew that on the day itself they would be separated so she had had the rather good idea that they would celebrate a few days early. The tree had been littered with home made decorations, baubles and the angel on the top that had seen more Christmas' than any of them could imagine; Sister Julienne telling them all it had been there for as long as she could remember.

Paper chains, carefully stuck together by nurses waiting for night calls and candles sitting on the fire place provided the dining room with that aura of excitement, the table in front of them bursting with a rather extensive banquet of food.

"Trixie! Where did you get that brooch? It's beautiful" Jenny announced, seeing Trixie walk in to the dining room, everyone still waiting patiently for the Sisters.

"Oh!" she replied, gently turning the jewel that was attached to her royal blue cardigan. "Ted bought it for me"

"Ted bought it for you?" Chummy interrupted, tea cup half way to her lips, a touch surprised and a lot perturbed.

"Isn't it just so….divine?" Trixie continued, as the pale yellow citrine sparkled and winked. That was until she saw Cynthia's face, realising that she should not have perhaps announced it quite that obviously in present company.

"Do you mind he bought it for me?" she asked.

"No, don't be silly!" Chummy replied not sounding altogether convinced. "If my brother wants to buy you a Christmas present…." She waved away any more questions and the subject was lost as Trixie took up a seat opposite.

"When we were little", Cynthia took up. "Mum and Dad used to take me and my brother, without fail, to the park on Christmas Morning and if it was snowing they just used to let us run wild. We could shout as much as we wanted and have snowball fights. Dad used to say it was the ony time of year we could fight with each other!"

The nurses around the table all smiled, Jenny busy pouring tea for the Sisters hearing them walk from the Chapel.

"What was Christmas like in India?" Jenny asked. She had travelled a fair few miles herself, and had one spent Christmas in Paris, seeing the street lamps twinkling along the banks of the Seine as she walked.

"Warm!" Chummy announced. "It never felt like Christmas . Not like when we were in London or Somerset or when I was with my guardian"

"You were with your guardian at Christmas, Nurse?" Sister Julienne asked, surprised, hearing the conversation build as she took her seat at the head of the table.

"Oh yes Sister! Do you know one almost preferred it. One didn't have to get dressed until noon; she would let me help her cook and I didn't have to eat all my dinner if I didn't want it".

The whole table laughed, but each one wondering of their own Christmas' surrounded by family, and this little girl favouring being away from her nearest and supposedly dearest.

"and she would have a tree just for her cat. She would let me decorate the thing when I was smaller. She was my governess' sister. A batty old hag but one really enjoyed her company".

"When I was about 9 or 10 there was a lady who lived next door to us who was like that", Jenny said. "She had three dogs and they would all have stockings and she would let me take them for their Christmas day walk. She didn't have a penny but she spent what she had on those dogs".

"You young ladies," Sister Evangelina announced, "would not know growing up in poverty if it hit you in the face with a damp dish rag".

"Poverty is all around us Sister" Sister Monica Joan interrupted, always one to take up her fellow Sister in argument if there was one to be had. "There is poverty in heart as well as food upon the table. We are blessed beyond reproach in our life as we have ourselves now dear Sister. We are blessed".

They saw Sister Evangelina take a heavy breath and the nurses, in an almost ripple, took up their teacups.

"I think", Sister Julienne said, "before we partake, that we will rest for a moment and give thanks?"

The table descended into silence as Sister Julienne breathed a prayer, each pair of eyes closed listening to the lilt of her voice. Chummy, silently cursing herself, found her mind oddly wandering. Those Christmas Days when her father, sitting, commanding the dining table leading the family in prayer, little Camilla the furthest away she could be from him, consigned to the far end of the table as the Ayah would take her away once the thanks had been said.

_"Little ones with no manners do not belong at the table"_,she had heard repeatedly so she and Ted would be taken to an ante room to eat. It marred her Christmas' for years and had been one of the reasons she adored that bare cottage that her guardian lived in as she could sit up and participate. Often she had wondered if her usual companion, Ted, felt the same.

Despite this Chummy was looking forward to this Christmas for the first time in a long time, setting aside for now as he asked her worries about her parents. She knew that the time they would spend with his parents would do more than a good job of taking her mind off the whole ghastly situation.

As the prayer ended the table tucked in to their early celebration and each received, from the Sisters a small red box, bedecked in a ribbon; told that they must not be opened until Christmas day.

As she thought of presents, she remembered it was her father in law's birthday on Boxing Day. She had been told by her mother in law on one of the very first occasions she met her that when Billy was born the rest of his family were as drunk as ninepins downstairs. Peter's grandfather had been so drunk he nearly dropped his newly born son on his head and his mother had mused on several occasions, when telling and relaying the story, that it explained a considerable amount.

She had already bought Peter one of his presents but had worried immensely about what to buy him. She had a tin that she had kept underneath her bed at Nonnatus; quietly squirreling away spare money for no particular purpose at all. Even though – then – she still had the advantage of her Trust fund, having that little tin there made her feel as though she had what little indepedance it brought and bought. She had built up a rather healthy sum since she had started putting it away in the Nursing Home and it pleased her that she could use it to buy a present for of all people, her _husband._

She settled on a watch. It was not too extravagant and she knew he needed a new one, having seen in the almighty scratch across the face of the one he had now, causing by being thrown against the ground whilst he was trying to break up that horrific fight where he seemed to come off worse with an angry black eye.

It was the first present she had ever bought him so she hoped, and had sent up a prayer that night, that he would like it.


	31. Chapter 31

Chummy woke early. For once she would not have to work on Christmas Day and it felt strangely wonderful. In the past she had always been the first to volunteer when everyone else wouldn't. As an adult, she had no reason to be with her parents, they always went away and her brothers had their own families to take care of and when she did go, she always felt like a spare part lingering on the fringes as the spinster that everybody eyed with pity. She didn't mind working in Hospital on Christmas Day; quite enjoyed it in fact. It always broke her heart to see people in Hospital with nobody to visit them any day but Christmas always seemed to be more poignant and if she could put a smile on someone's face it was a job well done.

This Christmas was going to be different though.

She turned to find her husband still asleep beside her. She ran her hand over his shoulder seeing the edge of the scar peeking out from the arm of his vest, and he shifted in his sleep, turning his head towards her. She had slept lightly that night, knowing it was Christmas morning soon, and he had woken with a start again bringing her out of her vague slumber.

"I'm sorry" he had mumbled, not telling her what he had seen or heard but her feeling exactly how tightly he had held her, grip only releasing when she was sure he was entirely asleep again. He would have tell her in his own time.

She thought of going to make themselves tea but she was far too comfortable and warm where she was. She closed her eyes again; there was no need to be up and about today and she could spare another hour or two asleep, especially if he was dead enough to the world that he wasn't in a position to amuse her.

She woke again an hour later to an empty bed, hearing a clink of cups downstairs before she quickly closed her eyes again, waiting to see what attempts he would make at 'waking' her up.

She heard the cups placed and shuffling of feet and as he leant over her, the bed dip, as she kept her eyes closed and a threatening smile from her lips. It didn't help that he was kissing her neck, her hand automatically lifting itself to rest on the back of his head to twist her fingers into his hair.

"Happy Christmas", he whispered. "I know you are not asleep".

She opened one eye.

"Get back in bed" she muttered. "You'll freeze!"

"You have to open your presents first", he said, reaching under the bed where he had stashed the small haul of gifts he had collected for her.

"A stocking?!" she remarked with surprise as the green and red package was presented to her.

"Yes" he replied, crawling over her legs to his side of the bed. "I thought it would be a good idea when you said you never had them as a child". She remembered that conversation well, when almost a month ago he had asked her what she wanted for Christmas. It had led to quite the discussion about her being so completely undecided and appalling at identifying what she wanted. He had also learnt she had never had a Christmas stocking and the idea immediately stuck.

She laughed. "You are wonderful to me!"

"Philip and I used to sit at the top of the stairs on Christmas morning working our way through our stockings so Mum and Dad could stay in bed longer. Go on, start!" he concluded gesturing at the stocking lying across her lap.

She smiled at him and opened up the top seeing it bursting with tiny gifts, on the top being a twisted white paper bag. Opening it up, she regarded the pink mouse hanging by its string tail and look at him quizzically.

"A sugar mouse" he said, seeing the look on her face.

"Is it? I don't know I've never had one".

"What? You have never eaten a sugar mouse?" he was actually quite shocked, particularly since the presence of that sugar treat when he was a child was more than accepted as a certainty. "You never lived!"

"I don't think I have". He saw a frown as she continued to swirl the mouse by its white tail.

"Oh, I'm sorry" he replied, his face creasing. "That came out wrong".

"Don't worry. I know you didn't mean anything horrible" she said, laying the sweet back in his bag.

"Mum loved them and would always try and pinch mine and Philip's".

"Mater never let us have sweets unless they were a treat" she carried on, pulling out a box wrapped in green paper, setting it down on her lap.

"and even then" she carried on, "it was things she liked. She used to have horrible glace fruit from Fortnums delivered and would force us to eat it when we had tea when my aunties visited. It just tasted like expensive rubber" she concluded, finding a white box inside the green.

"We used to get glace fruit too" he said. "A little box of it each from the shop round the corner, but I always gave mine to Philip. Hated the stuff so he always ate it instead and neither of us had the heart to tell Mum and Dad. Rock hard sweets as well you could break your teeth on. I think one year between the two of us we managed to bury them in the park so Mum and Dad wouldn't shout at us for throwing them out".

She laughed at the image she had in her head of the boys sneaking the sweets under their coats as she opened up the white box to find a blue velvet box within.

"That's one of your real presents"

She opened it up to find a delicate brooch; a circle of aurora borealis intertwined with gold. Chummy always loved the way the stone reflected every colour of the rainbow and it would go well with that bracelet she had bought herself years and years ago with her first wages. Mater would have murdered her if she had known that she preferred the rhinestone over diamonds.

"Thank you" she smiled.

She pulled out an orange.

"Having an orange yourself when I was kid was heaven. Having Philip's as well in exchange for the glace fruit was even better".

"We always had so much" she mused, briefly frowning at his statement that a simple piece of fruit was beyond his wildest dreams. "Even with the war, when everyone one else was on the ration, the table was always bursting. I used to feel so guilty that we were there, gorging ourselves and there were so many people hungry, not celebrating anything".

"I use to tell Mater that but she would just say I was silly to think about it as though it was not a reality I should be worried about". She placed the orange beside her.

"When Dad was ill, Philip and I had Saturday jobs. I'd do a morning in the pet shop and an afternoon in a sweet shop. Philip used to deliver papers and then he would go to the shoe factory. It was just sweeping up at first but they used to let him cut patterns too. It got us by and bought our birthday presents".

She smiled gently. "What was your best Christmas?" she asked, curious to know. It was a case of 'how the other half lived' but she had wondered many a time what the difference between young Camilla and young Peter might have been.

"Philip and I got a bike. I was 10 and he was 9".

"Each?"

"Between us. It was second hand from one of the men dad worked with on the docks and we had to share it as Mum and Dad couldn't afford one each and we taught each other to ride it. Mum and Dad lost us for the entire Christmas Day when we got that bike! There were that many scraped knees and banged heads before we went back to school" he paused, trying to remember. "I'm sure that's when Philip broke his thumb".

"I remember getting shouted at by a Policeman for riding on the pavement. I nearly fell off in fright his voice was so loud".

She giggled, imagining his much younger self toppling off his bike. How ironic it was.

"We would have one present by our beds usually a book" she said, taking out a small stuffed bear. "Oh Peter! He's beautiful! He can be a friend to Arthur!" He smiled at the much larger bear sitting on the chair on the other side of the room that had been her companion, she told him, since the age of 4. Her little friend had not made it to the marital bed yet, consigned to the chair where he would stay. "Then we would get dressed and Pa would take us all for a walk. We would have our other presents at dinner time that night".

"Dad would insist we had ours as soon as we got out of bed".

"Do you know every Christmas it would be the same and I couldn't bear it. I would have a dress made that would be a Christmas present as well, have my hair tormented into ringlets so I would look respectable for Grandmama. I know it sounds ungrateful but one would rather have a Christmas where one could just race around on a bicycle".

From the side of the stocking she produced an envelope.

"That's another one of your real presents". She opened it up.

"Theatre tickets?" She flipped them over and read "Around the World in 80 days".

"I thought we would go in the New Year. Ronnie got them for me".

"Thank you!" she said. "I haven't been to the theatre in years". She kissed him again. "For being so thoughtful. You didn't have to go to the effort of a stocking!"

"I did. Christmas isn't Christmas without one. No matter how old you are. Come on there's more". She produced another box - his favourite perfume - followed by candy canes and finally a rather exquisite silk neck scarf wrapped in tissue paper. "That one is actually from Ronnie".

Tears sprung to her eyes and she quickly swiped them away. "I'm not upset. I just never thought anyone would be this thoughtful towards me".

"Well, you had better get used to it!" he replied, taking her hand. "I never want you to think that nobody can love you. I have the most wonderful wife and you will be the most perfect mother one of these days".

They had been married all of five minutes and whilst she had been entirely petrified of the prospect of children, wondering what type of mother she would be, she owed it to him to give him the family he clearly wanted.

"Yes" she replied, smiling. "One day"

He leant across and kissed her.

_"_One thing isn't wrapped though. It isn't really a present I was planning on but I only picked it up yesterday".

She saw him slide off the bed and kneel on the floor, producing a long parcel from underneath.

"Do you remember I told you that the Tailors at the end Commercial Road of got turned over?" he said, settling himself again as she restored the stocking to its former glory as she nodded.

"Well Mr Goldman had a fob watch stolen as well. It was his grandfather's. We got the watch back for him and I took it to him a couple of days ago. He asked if I had a wife or sisters and when I said I was married, he gave me that to give to you so you could make something with it".

She opened up the brown paper to find a bolt of the most exquisite cream silk.

"Peter! It must have cost a fortune!" she said, letting the material slip over her hands.

"I don't know. I nearly didn't take it but Mr Goldman was completely insistent. He said that if I took it I would make my wife smile and she might make something 'interesting' with it". It had only dawned on him what the elderly tailor had meant when he returned to the shop last night out of uniform to collect it.

"It's beautiful. I will go in next week and thank him". She paused for a moment. "Isn't he the one where his daughters always make you cups of tea?"

She was teasing him and he knew it.

"The three of them are not even 19 yet! But Arielle did bake the lads a cake the other day and it was rather nice".

Chummy tutted; even though she was not remotely threatened. She gently rolled the silk back around the cardboard, thoughtfully setting it carefully back on the bed to their side.

Now it was his turn.


	32. Chapter 32

She passed him a parcel, wrapped with ribbon and red paper.

"They should fit" she said apprehensively, giving him half a clue what was lying within the paper. Gently he unwound the ribbon and found a pair of hand made pyjamas.

"You made these?" he asked, shaking out the top from its folds. She nodded and smiled, even though could still see the disquiet in her eyes at how he may respond.

"Are they alright?" she questioned, trying to catch his eye as he straightened the collar.

He looked up at her. "Of course they are. They are perfect because you spent time making them for me and they are, well, perfect anyway".

She watched him take the bottoms from the wrapping paper and lay both down on the pillow beside her.

"Now I know what you do when I'm on nights" he concluded with a smile, seeing her reach into her bedside cabinet. Again he could see that look on her face.

"Camilla there is no need for you to be worried. I am going to love whatever you make or buy me because it comes from you".

She nodded and smiled, feeling better. It was again that feeling of failing and not being approved of that seemed to haunt her. "In fact," he said. "I am going to put them on now".

She watched as he changed quickly. Under the covers she was lovely and warm but the heating in the flat was on the blink again so she understood the speed in which he was dressing before diving back on the bed.

"I've never had to buy anything for anyone like you before" she said, handing him another present, also wrapped in red.

"Anyone like me?" he asked, putting what felt and looked like a book onto his lap to be opened. He wasn't quite sure what she meant and she knew it sounded clumsy. She knew what she needed to say but she had no way of describing what she was thinking.

"A boyfriend; husband" she replied. It was something she had never had to think of before. Her presents for her brothers had always been approved by her father having no money to call her own and when she was a child, her mother selected them all. She had never had to buy anything for someone who was this close to her heart before.

"Well I would hope so on the husband front, but really never?" he questioning having stopped unwrapping.

He knew of her mother's desperate attempts to marry her off, but the word 'never'? He couldn't understand it. Surely there must have been someone who saw her as he did? Ten minutes in her company, albeit in a heap on a Poplar Street was enough to make him want to know her better. His wife just pursued her lips and shook her head.

"You were the first person to hold my hand out of love". Her first kiss and her virginity did not require a mention as he fully understood.

"I had all these thoughts that there might just be somebody, but really the thought of sitting on Christmas Day with my husband beside me, opening Chirstmas presents, thinking one day one might be buying presents for my children was something that might never be real". She recalled their conversation just from a night or three before when she had found the tree.

"Well we have some wonderful things to think about then, don't we?"

She nodded as he opened the parcel, to find a copy of one his favourite books from when he was younger - 'The Sword in the Stone'.

"How did you know I loved this book?" he asked, smiling as he read the back cover.

"Your mum. She said she had to prise the one you had from your hands to throw out when it fell apart".

He chuckled remembering; thinking that description was by and large extremely accurate. "It used to be on the radio too. You couldn't budge me from the living room when it was on. I might read it when you are on duty tonight!"

He saw another parcel passed to him. Her last one, opening it to reveal the watch she had bought.

"I noticed the scratch on yours" she said, him knowing that his current watch was firmly on its last legs after its contact with the dark oak wood of the bar of that wretched public house. "Are you sure everything is alright?"

"Camilla.." he started. "Be quiet".

Anyone else telling her to 'be quiet' might have resulted in a choice word or two but there was something in his tone that could render her dumb in one second. Instead she felt his hand creep up her cheek to pull her to him for a 'thank you' kiss.

He scrambled off the bed to fold away all the wrapping that was around them as she carefully restored the stocking to its former glory, stashing the theatre tickets on her bedside table.

"I've got what I want, Camilla" he said. "This time last year I was on duty - clock watching until five so I go could go Mums".

"I was just about to go to bed after night duty" she replied, watching him, silently cheerful that the pyjamas did seem to fit rather well. "I'd applied to work at Nonnatus on Christmas Eve, posted the letter at nine o'clock that morning and the first thing when I came off night shift on Christmas morning was to go to the hospital chapel and pray that I would get the job".

"Well someone somewhere was listening to you" he replied, stashing his book and watch on the bedside table.

"Share the orange to start breakfast?" she suggested. "Or is that sacrosanct to you and Philip?" she added quickly, thinking he might not want her to impose on the ritual he had with his brother.

"If he was here he would be encouraging me to say yes,_ but_, you have to be sitting on the top step of the stairs to share the Christmas orange properly. Come on!" He held his hand out to her.

"Peter we have no stairs" she said, looking up at him with a slightly confused and equally incredulous face.

"Then we sit in the hallway!"

Chummy shook her head in amused disbelief and allowed herself to be dragged out of bed.

"Wait!" she said, disentangling herself from the sheet that she had somehow taken with her. "I need my dressing gown and slippers, it's bally freezing in the hall this time in the morning".

He stood on the middle of the room and received his dressing gown to hand. She actually had a very good point as the floor was icy underneath his bare feet.

They sat side by side in silence as she peeled the orange splitting it in half passing it to him, catching his eye as they dissolved into a fit of the giggles.

"When we have our children," she said, knowing they looked ridiculous but not caring one iota.

"and when we have a staircase" he interrupted.

"When we have our children and when we have a staircase, you will have to teach them to sit on the top step at Christmas so we can have a lie in like your Mum and Dad".

"I will" he said, "and they will always have a stocking, but no glace fruit!"

"None whatsoever". She said smiling back at him.

"Peter?"

"Hmmm?" he replied mouth full of orange.

"I was thinking. About Philip. I think we might have a photograph of him on the mantelpiece, if your Mum would let us have one and you'd like it?"

She had hoped that it might help him; make it easier to talk and when he was truthful to himself, it was something he had not thought about.

"Let's not raise it today, but yes, I'd like that. I can ask Mum", he said, realising it might take some courage to mention it to his mother.

"Speaking of which" she said, peeling another slice for herself, "what time are your parents expecting us?"

"About 12 noon" he replied, remembering his Dad's telephone call last week to tell him that they were to arrive on the dot as their Christmas dinner was planned to the second already.

"Come back to bed then" she said, reaching across to give him a orangy kiss. "You can tell me what you would like me to make out of that silk".


	33. Chapter 33

Peter was standing staring into space on the step into the garden, not feeling the cold, suddenly fascinated by the bare branches of the rosebushes that one day would flower into bloom again.

"Do you think he's alright?" Cynthia whispered to Jenny, the pair having come across him as they walked, gently nursing cups of tea to ward off the chill in the air.

"I don't think so", Jenny replied, thinking perhaps that he might not welcome an approach from anyone but his wife as he looked more than troubled. "Is Chummy in?"

"No. She had to go to Amy Smith as soon as she stepped in the front door", Cynthia replied. "I feel terrible for having to telephone her to come in. She is not on until tonight. They were both meant to be having the day together".

Cynthia felt guilty at having to telephone her at his parent's house to ask her to come into work hours earlier than she had meant to. They had all hoped that they might have a few hours to spare to feel the spirit of Christmas on the day itself, but without the Sisters they were struggling. After a long debate between the three of them, Cynthia had drawn the straw to make the telephone call.

"We are so busy though" Jenny continued, "and she said she didn't mind".

Cynthia nodded. She had only been back in the building for less than half an hour, with Jenny having the 'luxury' of almost two times that, both expecting more calls at any moment. Chummy and Trixie were long gone.

"Shall we make a fresh cup of tea?" Jenny offered. "Three cups?"

He had heard the feet before they both reappeared, cups in hand, Jenny balancing the one for him. He smiled as it was handed to him.

"We are sorry we had to call her in" Cynthia said, as the three sat on the step.

"It's quite alright" he replied. They were so used to him usually appearing with a smile. Seeing a quiet melancholy Peter was something they had never witnessed before.

"You did manage to have some time to eat though?" Cynthia continued, so used herself to interrupted meals that it would be taken as quite normal that today they would not be able to indulge for any period of time at all.

He nodded. It was his mother's insistence that dinner be at one that meant by the time the telephone call came at just past three, they were sitting listening to the radio.

"No slacking there!" they all heard as Chummy's voice boomed along the corridor.

"I thought we were meant to be busy and I find you all drinking tea". She saw all three smile, but could see Peter was actually miles away as he sat next to the girls.

"You were quick!" Jenny said, as they stood up.

"You know she drops them like marbles!" Chummy replied. "She was further along than she thought".

There was silence for a moment before Cynthia asked if Chummy wanted a cup of tea too. With the answer in the affirmative, Cynthia departed with Jenny to 'help' leaving husband and wife to stand by the door. She received a very quick kiss, somehow both of them feeling an odd teenage guilt about physical affection being demonstrated in a convent.

"I did fall asleep on the settee" he confessed.

"I though you would!" she replied, smiling although she could that he was frowning.

"I saw Philip again".

"When you were tiny?" she asked, knowing that he would see those times as children more times than not.

"He touched my hand. I can still feel the blood. Feel _his_ blood _again_". She knew immediately it was that dream where they were standing staring at each other, her brother in law with horrific injuries that she had yet to know the full extent of.

She could see his shirt sleeve was wet. He must have tried to wash his hands of the invisible sanguine marks.

"Come on" she said suddenly, deciding that this time, hating seeing him agitiated, that she would take the bull by the proverbial horns. "We are going somewhere quiet and you are going to tell me".

She took him by the wrist heading towards the stairs.

"Won't the Sisters be unhappy?" he asked, knowing Sister Julienne's rule that no man must put a foot on those stairs without her expression permission.

"The Sister's aren't here and the girls are not going to sneak on me. Besides" she said flippantly, "they will just think we have slipped off for a bit of the other. They won't need to know".

Any other day he might have smiled. He felt his hand taken and they walked up the stairs to the very end room that no so long ago had been her home.

"I've never actually been in here before" he said, looking around at the bare furniture, entirely devoid of the decoration that had decamped with her to the married quarters.

"Well make the most of it as it might be the only time!"

They sat together on the bed, side by side, backs against the wall. Chummy took his hands, running her finger around the edge of the damp mark on the blue cuff of his shirt.

"Please tell me if you can".

"I think it was talking about him this morning".

"I'm sorry" she said, knowing it was her that encouraged his talk of his brother and immediately feeling guilty has to what she had raised.

"No, I _need_ to talk about him" he continued, inhaling deeply. "We were standing in a field. I've no idea where we were; but it was only us. He just had a blank expression on his face; the same as it was when I saw him hit. It was like the pain was not letting him think. He took a pace or two towards me and held out his hand and I could see his lips were moving as though he was trying to tell me something. I couldn't control that I reached out to him and all I could feel was blood".

He still couldn't tell her about his brother's actual injuries partly hidden by the blackened, shredded uniform.

"The moment he touched my hand, really held on, I felt my back burning again and someone throw me to the ground". He paused. "Then I woke up".

It was the sanitised version. The reality of it was, this time, entirely more frightening than the last. The sticky red blood washed over his hand as it coagulated in the cold air, feeling as though it was seeping into his very tissues. The life of his brother slipping away on his skin, feet immovable objects as though he could do something to try and stop time. He could still feel it, his brother's warm hand catching his, the red blood causing the grip to slip for a moment as they reached out to each other and then that overwhelming pain as fire licked its way over his back. He didn't hear the explosion this time and it had terrified him even more at its suddenness.

It felt as though Hell had arisen around him as he was propelled to the floor by human hand, angry claws of flames scorching him hearing his heart beat like a drum in his ears. Waking up, falling, jolting as he almost slithered off the settee inside Nonnatus.

He felt her hand take one of his, gently turning his wrist over so his palm faced her. With her other hand she gently traced the long life line of this skin.

"I've ruined your Christmas Day" he said, watching her fingertips.

"No, don't be such a silly moose. You haven't". In fact, she felt, she had not been as close him as any time before.

She leant across and kissed him in love and support; not caring this time that there was a crucifix hanging over their heads on the wall.

"I need to tell you something" she said suddenly. He raised his head. She hadn't intended it to be now but something was telling her subconsciously that this was the time to tell him.

"I worked out why I have been having these horrid headaches and a queasy tum. I thought it was nerves with Mater being here and one thinks it was a little bit, but…." She didn't feel like smiling, the atmosphere in the room being not one where what they knew was wonderful news could be celebrated.

"But it's not?" he said quietly.

"No" she replied, feeling sheepish for some reason, almost embarrassed that she had fallen so easily at her age. Married twelve weeks and one day and utterly stunned at her realisation.

"Your son or daughter", she whispered back to him. Even though his heart was jumping for joy his head was not letting him commute it to her and he still had that frown on his face. His mind was racing with so many thoughts that his child was suddenly fighting for space.

The room felt subdued, her wondering whether she ought to have waited to tell him, firmly putting her foot in it as per usual.

"Why don't you stay here all night?" she said, realising that she ought to have waited albeit that his silence was not deliberate . "The Nuns aren't here until tomorrow evening".

"I don't want to disturb you". He had turned her hand over now and was now tracing the lines in her hand too.

"You won't. Stay here and see if you can sleep and I will be downstairs. There will always be company if you need it and I'd like you to stay with us tonight". The 'us' meant her and her child.

Their minds would perhaps let them celebrate another day.


End file.
